In Who's Name?
by Gold
Summary: [Under Revision]. Seiftis. Someone awakes in a hospital bed, amnesiac and bandaged. He's blond, greeneyed and handsome, and his name, according to a beautiful woman in a military uniform, is Squall Leonhart. Riiiiiight.
1. Awaken, o amnesiac one

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. 

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 1: Awaken, O amnesiac one

He opened his eyes and then shut them almost immediately, the bright lights overhead were too much for them. Slowly, cautiously, he opened his eyes the merest of slits and took in what he could see. Above him were bright hospital lights and around him were blank white beds with a small, utilitarian chest of drawers by each. The furniture was distinctively Spartan and uncomfortable. He was in a hospital, obviously, or at least a ward of some kind. But why was he there? And where in the world was this place?

Slowly, he raised himself up on his elbows. He looked curiously down at himself. He ached all over, as if he'd been in a tremendous fight, and he could see bruises and healing scrapes all over his arms. And his bare torso had about a mile of bandage wrapped around it. He felt his head. It was likewise accompanied by bandages. His nose wrinkled at the heavy medicinal smell. Ugh. He examined his arms. He had nice arms—golden-brown, smoothly muscular and obviously well-trained. Hmm, he thought, feeling gratified. He poked a finger at a muscle. Rock-hard. Hmm. The self-satisfied feeling increased. He carefully slid a hand under the sheet covering him—ah. Rock-hard abs too. Now all he had to do was to figure out who he was—

His mouth dropped open in shock as the full realization dawned on him. He had _no_ idea who he was! Heck, he didn't even know how old he was. He glanced around frantically for a mirror, but of course, in a Hyne-forsaken hospital, they wouldn't even have a Hyne-cursed mirror…not that he knew who Hyne was, or why he was swearing with that word. Panicking, he put a hand up to his face and passed a hand over his features. He seemed to have a mouth that was working—lips, teeth and all. His nose appeared to be healthy as well—ouch, was that a bruise on his cheek or what? And did that feel like a single line between his eyebrows? It was too long and oddly placed to be a wrinkle—come to think of it, his face was pretty smooth apart from the bruises, so he had to be quite young—so the line had to be a scar. Or else he had had plastic surgery to remove his wrinkles.

"Ah, you're awake, Seifer. Good! How are you feeling?"

A woman in a white lab coat had just entered. She moved to his side and felt his forehead. "Your fever's down. You're still running a light temperature, but it should be gone soon. Now, you haven't answered my question. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. A little strange." He liked the sound of his voice. It was deep, rich and manly. Good. So long as he didn't sound high-pitched and squeaky, like a puberty boy—ugh. "By the way, what did you call me?"

The doctor frowned. "Call you? Why, by your name, of course—" She stopped and looked hard at him. "What's _my_ name?"

"Uh—" he thought hard. "Er—" he shrugged. "I don't know." It was his turn to frown. "Do I know you?"

"Dr. Kadowaki!" A pretty, light girlish voice called from outside, accompanied by light, running footsteps and the brisk, businesslike click of boot heels striking the floor.

The door was pushed open and an extremely pretty girl came in. She wore a light blue dress and her long, dark brown hair spilled to her waist, framing a very sweet face with delicate features and enormous dark brown eyes with long lashes. She came to a stop when she saw him and her eyes grew huge in her face, her hand flying to her mouth. She was incredibly pretty, he thought. Wow. Maybe he'd stay here a little longer…  

Then he saw her.

She entered just behind the first girl. She was much taller and the sharp sounds of her boot heels striking the floor echoed with her steps. The first thing he noticed was that she wore glasses and some sort of military uniform, and that her face was severe as a storm in winter. He didn't think much of that. Then she came within a few feet of him and looked him full in the face. He swallowed, his heart rate increasing erratically. 

She had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, large but not over-large, and they were the clearest, most glorious blue he'd ever seen. It was a pity they were hidden behind those metal rims. The rest of her was equally impressive. A perfectly-shaped oval face, a classic nose, and full crimson lips; a faultless complexion of peaches and cream; fine brows arching delicately above those eyes; and she was definitely curvy—very curvy. The skirt clung to her hips and bore testimony to the length of her legs, which were clad in no-nonsense boots. Gorgeous. Goddess. It was too bad she didn't appear to be a nurse, or he'd have decided to play sick a little longer.

She was intelligent. She took one look at the little scene in front of her, settled her glasses firmly on her nose, and went straight to the point. "What's wrong?" Her voice was a little husky, lovely on the ear, and her accents were clipped and businesslike. She put a hand on her hip, accentuating the curve of her figure. Wait—she was resting her hand on—a *whip*?! Whoa. Gorgeous, intelligent—and lethal to boot. 

The doctor-woman with the tongue-tripping name said one word. "Amnesia."

The dark-haired girl's mouth worked soundlessly. The other girl, golden-haired, frowned. "Temporary or permanent?"

The doctor shook her head. "It's still too early to tell. But—"

"Excuse me? Would you stop talking as if I weren't here?" he interrupted with a growl, suddenly angry. "Just tell me who I am, where I'm from and I'll get out of here."

The blond beauty with the glasses gave him a Look. "I'd say _temporary_ memory loss." She stepped closer to him, never breaking eye contact. He stiffened, but did not back away. Instead, he leaned forward, smirking slightly. He never turned down a challenge. Besides…she smelt good. Was she wearing perfume or did she always smell like that?

Now she leaned back as she studied him, her eyes narrowed, and he smirked triumphantly as he realized that he was getting on her nerves. Heh, it felt good to annoy someone. He wondered vaguely if that was part of his character, or if it was just a warped part of him surfacing due to amnesia.

A fine brow arched. "I suppose we'd better tell you your name. You're…" The blonde goddess paused for a moment. "… Squall Leonhart."

(Behind her, the dark-haired girl's eyes widened, then crinkled as she covered her mouth with both hands and quivered with silent laughter).

Squall…Leonhart. Squall Leonhart? The name was familiar. He frowned, turning it over in his mind. Squall. Humph. 

"Tell me how soon I can change my name," he snorted. "Squall indeed. What a weird name. My parents must've been uninspired that day I was born."

The blonde beauty regarded him quizzically. "You do have amnesia after all."

He rolled his eyes. "You're bright," he sneered, feeling a little annoyed at that cool, know-it-all attitude of hers. "Who the hell are you anyway?"

"I'm Quistis Trepe," she said simply.

"Quistis Trepe," he said thoughtfully, turning the name over in his mind, his voice unconsciously drawing out the name in a long, almost tender way.

The blonde beauty gave him a long, peculiar look. "This is Rinoa Heartlilly. And this is Dr. Kadowaki."   

He looked hard at each of them in turn. The doctor returned his gaze gravely; Rinoa Heartlilly, the dark-haired girl, smiled gently and sympathetically at him, but there was a little fear and something like pity in her eyes; Quistis Trepe watched his every movement closely, warily—a woman fully alert and on guard. Who was she protecting? he wondered. 

"Oh, by the way, your name isn't Squall Leonhart," she said. A tiny spark of amusement lit those beautiful blue eyes. "Your name is Seifer Almasy."

Well, it was a darn sight better than being named Squall Leonhart.


	2. About Seifer Almasy

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. 

Thank you very much for your reviews. This is my first foray into the world of FFVIII fanfiction and I'm awfully bucked by the reviews I've been getting. Thank you all!

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 2: About Seifer Almasy

The whole thing was just so weird. His name was Seifer Almasy and he was stuck in some place called Baa-lamb Garden. Or Balamb Garden, but it was all Baa-lamb to him. It sounded familiar—heck, almost _everything_ sounded familiar to him nowadays. He supposed it meant that he was somewhere he ought to be. No, what was really out of this world was the history they told him. It was the blonde goddess, Quistis Trepe, who'd sat down and spoken to him about it. She had been at it for too long, nattering on about seeds (plants, maybe? But she didn't look like the gardening sort), and soldiers, mercenaries, posse, disciplinary committee, sorceresses, magic, possession, orphans, drowning…his head was spinning.

"I'm _what_? I'm a fugitive? No, wait—an ex-fugitive? SeeD? What seeds? This place doesn't look like an academy for gardeners to me…Sorceress…what's a sorceress? As in 'abracadabra, alakazing, alakazoom'?! What the hell?! I did _what_? I helped an _evil_ sorceress? I was _possessed_ by one?!Two years ago? Is that your excuse for keeping me locked up in this Hyne-forsaken place…whoever Hyne is?!"

Quistis Trepe had looked like she wanted to strangle him. "Seifer Almasy, would you just shut up and listen for once! Without interrupting! Hyne, do I have to teach that to you all over again?"

That sounded familiar too, as if she had said those words a score of times to him in exactly the same irritated tones, with precisely the same half-exasperated, half-angry look on her face. He folded his arms and scowled. Quistis tugged glumly at a strand of her perfectly-coiffed hair. He wondered what it'd look like messed up and tumbling to her shoulders, and with those steel-rimmed glasses off her pretty nose. She would be _hot_…not that she wasn't already, but she seemed too icy, too controlled. It would be nice to see her wild and dishevelled for a change…

Quistis took a deep breath. "Let's go over this again and try not to interrupt this time. Your name is Seifer Almasy. You are twenty years old." She felt like a kindergarten teacher.

Seifer snorted. "You've said that already. I know how to spell my name, thanks, so we can skip that."

Quistis clenched her teeth. "I said, _listen and do not interrupt_. Five days ago, you nearly drowned in the sea during a storm. Fortunately, you were rescued in time and brought here. You probably hit yourself somewhere on the head because you came in with a concussion, amongst other injuries.  You have been in a coma for the past few days and you are very lucky to be alive! And we are _not_ locking you up here. This, for Hyne's sake, is not a mental institution. Do I _look_ mental to you?"  

"That's begging the answer—_yes_."

Quistis was on her feet before he could blink, eyes snapping. "Right. That's it."

"What, you gonna put me in a straitjacket—" He stopped as she stuck her nose into his face, very blue eyes boring into his. Whatever scent she was wearing, he loved it. But he wisely kept his mouth shut—there was a steely gleam in those eyes and he wasn't quite sure he could handle that cruel whip with bare hands.

"You can do whatever you want now despite what happened almost two years ago, thanks to a pardon," she told him, her voice soft and icy. "So shut up and use your brains for _once_. You have a second chance at life, so don't you _dare_ screw up this time, Almasy. I'm not having you fail again, you hear me?"

He stared at her. "What's this? I'm your what—personal mission?"

She blew the breath out of her cheeks as she sat back, her hair flying in the short puffs of air. He wondered if her kisses tasted like her breath felt—warm and sweet, and utterly irresistible…

"Headmaster said I was to make sure you understood things. Matron said I was to make sure you were well before Dr. Kadowaki let you out of the Infirmary. Dr. Kadowaki said I was to make sure you rested and did not exert yourself too much. So yes, it's a _personal_ _mission _unless I want dire consequences on _my_ head. And I like my head the way it is, thank you very much. I couldn't care less if you disagree." She eyed him narrowly, her tone changing swiftly from grim to suspicious. "I don't like the look on your face."

He reached out to touch the blond hair framing her face and found himself smiling softly at the surprised look on her face. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I like your hair too."

Her cheeks flushed a very faint pink and he smirked, but then caught a brief flash of pain in her eyes before they narrowed again as she drew further back and pushed his hand away.

"You'll get wrinkles if you squint like that at me over and over again," he pointed out, not unkindly. He wondered what had caused that flash of pain.

"Whatever," she grumbled, getting up. She stood looking down at him and he fancied that she looked pensive.

"Get well soon," she said simply. "Maybe later…" She hesitated, a half-thoughtful, half-enigmatic expression on her face.

"Maybe later what?"

She shook her head, still looking down at him, that enigmatic expression irking him all the more. "Maybe later, when you can sit up properly, I'll bring you something to read…something that'll tell you a little bit about your history. I hope you enjoy your stay here," she said. Then she turned and left the room.

" 'Enjoy your stay'?" he grumbled to himself, eyeing his clean and medicinal surroundings with distaste. "It's not as if this is a hotel. Who does she think she is anyway?" 

It occurred to him suddenly that he really hadn't the faintest idea who or what she was, and what her role was in this crazy place that was called a Garden and didn't resemble a park in the least. Hyne, he didn't even know who he really was or his role in this crazy place. Hyne, nothing she said seemed to fit, and yet everything seemed to fit. Hyne, as crazy as her story was, it hung together, and yet…

His brow furrowed as he suddenly realized something else. For all the information she had tried to squeeze into him in the space of fifteen minutes, Quistis Trepe had forgotten one important bit of information. 

Who or what was Hyne?


	3. Liberi Fatali

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII.

Ha! England 1, Argentina 0. HURRAY! I just watched the entire match…did anyone notice that England had a nine-man defence?

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 3: Liberi Fatali

Cid Kramer, Headmaster of Balamb Garden, folded his hands.

Squall Leonhart, Commander of Balamb Garden, was silent.

Instructor Quistis Trepe of Balamb Garden waited patiently. She had played this game before, almost a year and a half ago, and she had won. Of course, no one in Garden knew about it, and if they did, she would be stripped of SeeD status, her licence and probably be slapped with a lifetime ban from all Gardens. In addition, she would probably bring down on several innocent heads the taint of suspicion.

"You know this means that you are to keep an eye on him at all times. Are you sure about this?" Cid broke the silence, looking dubiously at Quistis.

He was trying to make it seem like a reluctant decision. It would increase her burden and decrease the pressure on him. Quistis repressed a sigh. "Yes, sir," she answered firmly.

Cid nodded. "Is there anything else?" He looked from Quistis to Squall.

"I have informed his friends of his presence here and the circumstances that led to it, sir," replied Quistis. "He was staying with them previously. They are former members of Garden. I'm afraid it took a little while to trace their whereabouts; they all but vanished after the trial. They have expressed a wish to see him immediately."

Cid raised an eyebrow. "Here, at Garden?"

Quistis gestured. "I'm not sure, sir. I told them that I would call them back to inform them if he could make it, depending on the results of Dr. Kadowaki's examination. Dr. Kadowaki may still wish to retain him. His injuries are not fully healed."

Cid rubbed his chin. "Yes, well." He sighed. "All right. Quistis, Squall—I'll leave it in your hands. Good luck."

Outside the office, Quistis turned to Squall. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "You're welcome." It wasn't much, but it was a start. 

She nodded. There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Quistis wanted to ask him why he had supported her, but decided not to. He would have refused to answer anyway, or given a short reply that wouldn't have been much of an answer, and she was learning wisdom. Besides, she already knew why he had supported her, although it would have been nice to hear him admit it. So she simply bade him farewell and set off in the direction of the infirmary. 

Dr. Kadowaki was scribbling on a pad when Quistis entered the doctor's office. The doctor looked up when the young instructor entered.

"How is he?" asked Quistis politely.

"He needs a couple more days of rest. I can release him from supervision in the infirmary today, but he must see me for a daily examination. That is my condition for his leaving the infirmary. His head wound is healing well and he won't have a scar to add to the one he already has. The bruises and other minor scrapes are of no concern and his weight has gone up, which is good. He's a good deal thinner than he used to be."

Yes. She knew that.

Dr. Kadowaki consulted her notes again. "I haven't released him just yet—I still need to do a check on his reflexes, but there's something else you should know. I was not certain before, but now that he is better, you have to know about it. I take it that you are now in charge of him." Her face was impassive, but the look in her eyes was significant.

"Yes?"

Dr. Kadowaki took a deep breath. "That chest wound was self-inflicted. The weapon used was probably a very sharp and wide blade." The doctor looked meaningfully at Quistis. "It could very well have been a gunblade that caused the wound. The wound was deep, which was why he lost a lot of blood, but fortunately, it missed his vital organs. "

Hyperion. Dear Hyne, _Hyperion_.

Quistis' mind spun and seemed to splinter in different directions. 

"I believe we should keep him for observation. A life is a life, and his intention in inflicting that wound on himself…" Dr. Kadowaki shook her head.

Quistis heard her voice babbling in horrified tones. It seemed to come…from very far away…"Self-inflicted? Doctor, are you sure?…Doctor, his friends are coming here to see him tomorrow…they will want to take him back…"

Dr. Kadowaki frowned. "If it were only temporary amnesia, I would agree, but the circumstances have changed. I will talk to the Headmaster about this." She patted Quistis on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Wait here while I finish with him. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."

 Quistis sat down, her mind racing haphazardly through everything Dr. Kadowaki had just said. Suicide and Seifer did not go hand in hand. Seifer had passion in him, a fire that could not be snuffed out so easily. Seifer challenged life and he did not do so by embracing death that way. To him, it would have been the wrong way to die. He would have wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, to die fighting, to die for a cause, and—not—by—his—own—hand. Yet he had apparently tried to kill himself. That in itself was peculiar enough to warrant much thought, but what puzzled Quistis was that the stab had missed all the vital organs. Seifer was an experienced fighter and a superb one. He could not have missed his heart if he had truly wanted to kill himself. Then—why? Unless, of course, he had entertained some notion of wanting to bleed heavily and painfully to death…

Quistis shoved away the thought. He had to stay. There had to be some way of making him want to stay alive. It was too much of a risk to let him go back to his old life, where the cause of his decision to commit suicide might be. On the other hand, Quistis mused, it could be that a combination of factors, including the Ultimecia Wars and his role in it, had led him down that path. He had to be kept alive. There had to be enough reason for him to stay alive, even if the day came when he regained his memories, including whatever it was that had driven him to plunge Hyperion into his chest.

Yet it was Hyperion that had saved his life, in the strangest of twists, if what Dr. Kadowaki had said was true.

"Gnah." 

She looked up to see a cross-looking Seifer. She forced a quick smile and arched an eyebrow. "What happened?"

Seifer shrugged and shot a dark look at Dr. Kadowaki. "I keep telling her I'm fine, but she won't take off these bandages."

"You broke a rib and sustained a very deep cut," the doctor told him. "You're lucky the cut isn't infected. Now just do as I say and rest, unless you want to spend time arguing with me. You can always stay here longer if you really want to. No one's stopping you, you know." She waited for Seifer to scowl before smiling. "All right, Quistis, he can go now."

Quistis stood up abruptly. "Dr. Kadowaki, you spoke just now about having to talk to the Headmaster. Could I talk with you about it first?" She deliberately refrained from suggesting a time to meet; she did not want Seifer to know anything.

Dr. Kadowaki nodded, comprehension in her eyes. "All right, but make it quick."

Quistis turned to go, motioning to Seifer to follow her. "Come."

He looked surprised. "Eh?"

"Oh, sorry." Quistis turned back to him. "Dr. Kadowaki says that you can be released from the infirmary, provided you go to her for a daily check-up. I will take you to the cafeteria for lunch first, and then I will show you to your room. You must stay here for a few more weeks, at least until your injuries are healed and Dr. Kadowaki is satisfied." 

_Or until I can find a way. I will _not _allow you to die like that! Liberi fatali we may have been, but we have served our purpose for destiny and it is time to make our own. Besides, too many people have risked their lives for you to throw yours away just like that._


	4. The Domino Effect

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

World Cup 2002 will forevermore be known as the Tournament of the Underdogs. I mean, Senegal won against France, the United States shamed Portugal, South Korea sent two past Poland, England scored against Argentina, and Croatia was victorious over Italy…*shakes head sagely* True, Germany drubbed Saudi Arabia, Brazil thumped China, and so on, but on the whole, truly an unexpectedly good outing for the underdogs this World Cup. 

Enjoy the following chapter, everyone! J

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 4: The Domino Effect

"What the—" hissed Zell Dincht, purple with rage as two tall figures appeared. "Setting him free was one thing, but letting him back in here is ANOTHER!"

Quistis spotted trouble from where she was standing and gritted her teeth. The route from the infirmary to the cafeteria had been littered with incidents. She had already sent four students to detention, barked out warnings to another six students, and threatened all of them with dire (unspecified) consequences if they failed to attain a 90% on a certain quiz she was going to set them, about the trial of Seifer Almasy. Whoever coined the proverb 'The course of true love never did run smooth' obviously hadn't tried to escort Seifer Almasy anywhere before. She'd bet her Save The Queen that of the two, the path of true love was infinitely smoother. Well, she could send Zell to detention, but—_been there, done that_, she thought_. _Besides, detention class would get almighty crowded if she continued in this strain. More creative measures were necessary to persuade the ignorant public over to the desired point of view. 

She coolly laid her free hand on her whip and casually pulled it from its position at her waist, flicking it slightly in the process.

A mug of hot coffee shattered a distance away.

Irvine Kinneas blinked. "Quisty's not in a good mood. Zell, shut up and eat those hotdogs." He reached out to push his friend's face into a plate of hotdogs.

Zell ducked the hand, still scowling. "If he sits at this table, I'm gonna leave."

Irvine promptly assumed a prayerful aspect, hands clasped, face uplifted and all. "Dear Hyne, please make sure that Seifer Almasy gets to sit at this table—OW! OW!"

Selphie Tilmitt, who was sitting next to Irvine, had given him a sharp elbow in the ribs. Zell had kicked Irvine at the same time. Opposite them, Rinoa Heartlilly burst into merry laughter and Squall Leonhart's lips moved approximately one millimetre outwards on either end.  

Irvine, who was nursing his sore ribs and leg, peered at Squall. "Ya think he's smiling?" he asked of Zell and Selphie. "Did he actually move?"

A shadow fell across the table.

Blue-gray eyes looked up through brown bangs.

Green eyes looked down from under straight blond brows.

Blue-gray met green.

An invisible line stretched between them, humming.

The tension in the air grew and crackled.

Any moment, it would explode.

Blood would spill.

"Let us all bow our heads and pray."

Irvine's sepulchral tones sliced into the deadly silence that had fallen over the cafeteria.  

Selphie, Rinoa and Quistis promptly burst out laughing. Selphie snorted into Irvine's shoulder and Rinoa hunched over her plate, all but howling with mirth. Quistis' smile nearly blinded Seifer, who stared at her, his mouth dropping open slightly. He'd thought she was gorgeous, but amazingly, she was even more beautiful than he had ever seen her. If only he could capture a picture of her just like that, laughing openly with that sweet softness in her face!

Meanwhile, the laughter broke the tension and the cafeteria burst into a frenzy of noise.

With an embarrassed start, Seifer took a seat next to Squall Leonhart, facing Zell Dincht, who froze and looked like he was going to do...something. 

"Seifer has amnesia," said Quistis as she sat next to Zell, effectively stalling any moves on the latter's part.

"I can see that," huffed Zell crossly.

Seifer rolled his eyes. "Gee, and you can see all the other 'flu symptoms I'm having too."

Zell glared at him. "He's not even here two seconds and he's already having a death wish."

If Quistis turned paler than usual, nobody seemed to notice.

"You couldn't lay a hand on me if you wanted to, Chicken Wuss," Seifer returned cheerfully and absently as he started on the contents of his tray.

Zell turned to Quistis, his eyes glittering dangerously. "I _thought_ you said he had amnesia."

"He does. His mouth just moves faster than his brain sometimes," Quistis shook her head. "He believed me when I told him that his name was Squall Leonhart."

Squall visibly choked on whatever he was chewing. Quistis' report hadn't said anything about _that_. Rinoa, who was barely hiding a smile, patted him vigorously on the back while Seifer watched with immense interest and an air that could almost be termed curiosity hanging about him. Zell took one look at the scarlet-faced Squall and a very slow, unwilling smile curved his lips.

"I believe you," he said. "His memory's returning, then?" He shot another none-too-happy glance at Seifer, who caught it.

"I hope so," said Seifer calmly. He reached forward and speared a hotdog from Zell's plate with Squall's fork. 

"Seifer, don't—!" Quistis' cry of warning came a little too late.

Zell lunged across the table and caught a fistful of Seifer's vest. Seifer's elbow jabbed Squall in the eye and the fork flew from him to land hard at the edge of Selphie's plate. Her plate overturned and the contents scattered themselves liberally over Irvine, who squawked loudly. The force of Seifer's accidental elbow blow tipped Squall on to Rinoa, who fell back, shrieking. Desperate to save himself and Rinoa, Squall grabbed blindly for a hold and latched on to Seifer, pulling all three of them off the bench, Zell tumbling after. 

Quistis, who had frozen in sheer horror, now came to life with a jerk. She hauled Zell off Seifer and sat him down so firmly that he lost his breath. Then she carefully assisted Seifer up, mindful of his injuries. Next she helped Rinoa and Squall up. 

"What is all this?"

Cid Kramer, Balamb Garden's Headmaster, stood a few tables away, staring in amazement. His eyes landed on the only unscathed member of the entire group. "Quistis, would you like to explain?" 

Quistis swallowed hard and thought quickly. "Ah—we had a little accident."

Cid arched an eyebrow. "Continue." He folded his arms.

"Ah—Zell wanted an extra hotdog and reached over to Rinoa's plate. She said he could have hers. But Zell overbalanced—I accidentally kicked him under the table while stretching out my legs—and he fell in Seifer's direction. Naturally, Seifer wasn't expecting it, sir, and he tried to avoid Zell but elbowed Commander Leonhart accidentally in the eye." Quistis paused for breath.

 Cid tried to look stern. "And then?"

"Well, uh, the Commander's fork accidentally flew and landed on Selphie's plate, upsetting it all over Irvine. And, uh, Seifer's blow was rather forceful and the Commander fell back and on to Rinoa, and he and Rinoa fell. Oh, and the Commander tried to catch hold of the table to stop himself from falling on Rinoa, but he accidentally caught hold of Seifer instead, hence Seifer tumbled, and Zell too," finished Quistis. Her blue eyes were very wide and sincere. "It happened faster than we could react, sir, rather like the domino effect." 

Cid turned over Quistis' explanation in his mind. It seemed quite watertight. He was quite sure that most of it was truthful, but not _all_ of it. Well, it appeared that no harm had been done…

He cleared his throat, frowning. "Well, it seems that no harm is done. I need not remind you that this is behaviour unseemly of a SeeD, but I will overlook it this time, since it is clearly an accident. Get someone to clean this mess up and make sure it doesn't happen again. Oh, and Quistis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"That was a very fine explanation. I expect the real culprits behind this to give you a treat." With a smile, he walked off. 

Seifer spoke up as soon as Cid was out of hearing. "Zell, you owe her a treat."

Zell glared at him. "_You_ started it by stealing _my_ hotdog! _You_ owe Quistis a treat!"

"Almasy, Zell, shut up." Squall's tones were crisp and annoyed. "You heard the Headmaster. You _each_ owe Quistis a treat."

"And I'm collecting," added Quistis severely. "I believe I should also be entitled to select the form of the treat." 

"Hey," began Seifer, but Quistis barrelled on. 

"What you consider a treat certainly wouldn't be my idea of one. Zell, you'll be extremely courteous and helpful to Seifer for a month. Seifer, you'll be courteous and helpful to the whole Garden for a month. Any time I catch either of you napping, the period of helpfulness and courtesy will be extended another three days."

Seifer and Zell protested at the same time. "That's NOT FAIR!"

Irvine started applauding. "Seifer Almasy and Zell Dincht just agreed on something! Selph, we gotta buy lottery tickets today."

"Why do I have to be courteous and helpful to the whole Garden and he only has to be courteous and helpful to me?" snarled Seifer, glaring at Quistis.

"He's never courteous and helpful to you and you're never courteous and helpful to the whole Garden," replied Quistis placidly. "You both hate it, which is why _I_ like it." 

"It sounds extremely _reasonable_ the way she says it, don't you agree?" Selphie commented in an aside to Rinoa, whose shoulders were shaking with laughter.

"Holy Hyne," murmured Irvine admiringly. "Quistis…I never knew you were sadistic!"

"Why else do you think the whip is my weapon of choice?" 


	5. The Posse

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

I've seen fanfics where there's Rinoa-bashing, Quistis-bashing, or Rinoa calling Quistis names unfit for ladies to utter, and vice-versa. Now I disagree with those fanfics completely. Whatever their flaws may be, neither Quistis nor Rinoa would ever call each other bad names. For one thing, Quistis would abhor such behaviour, and even if she did have a crush on Squall, she would understand that in no way should it affect her judgement of Rinoa. For Quistis, logic has always ruled over her emotions, and in any case, I believe she admired Rinoa's courage and determination throughout the game. 

Rinoa, by the way, is exactly the type of girl who would look up to Quistis and admire her. All her life, Rinoa has tried to be the kind of girl Quistis is—strong, independent, and brilliant. To meet someone like Quistis, well, Rinoa has found a flesh-and-blood ideal for her to aspire towards. At the same time, Quistis, who is used to guiding others, will no doubt be a very good friend to Rinoa, perhaps even a big sister to Rinoa, who is an only child. 

Throughout this fanfiction, I have tried to present what I believe to be an accurate portrayal of their relationship.

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 5: The Posse

They sat in a sort of companionable silence in his room. Quistis had been talking her throat dry for about two hours, on and off, with only a bottle of mineral water to quench her thirst. Seifer leaned back against the headboard of the bed, mulling over her words in silence. She had been trying to tell him about him—a rum task, certainly.

"Seifer?" Quistis looked at him curiously, tipping her head on one side. What was he thinking about, she wondered?

He turned to her. "What do I call you?"

"Huh?"

"Do I call you Trepe, or Quistis, or Instructor—or will you let me call you Quisty, like your other friends do? Hyne, there's bound to be _some_ situation I have to call for you, and I'm not going to yell, 'Hey, you!' "    

She looked thoughtful. "Any of those names will do," she told him finally. "I'd much prefer Quistis, and in any case, I'm not your instructor…"

_Am I still your favourite student, Instructor?_

_Not any more. (Always, Seifer. You and Squall, both. Always. My best students, my favourite students, and Garden's finest. Where did I go wrong, Seifer, in failing to teach you and Squall to work as one? Hyne, I must not think of this now…he is not the Seifer I know…not any more…en garde!)_

He watched her face. Was she always so terribly rule-bound and rigid, he wondered, stealing a glance at her beautiful profile. Her back was straight as a ramrod and she walked confidently, her arms swinging casually by her side, but every part of her screamed 'SeeD'. He had seen her pounce so quickly on an errant student that the poor fellow hadn't even had a chance to flee the scene. He had seen her eyeball students into murmuring humble apologies and offering to take themselves to the Headmaster or to scoot to detention immediately. 

He had seen students follow her or go out of their way to talk to her and wave to her—they were her devoted fan club, the Trepies. Many of them were hormone-rampant males who had embarrassing crushes on her. Many were idol-worshipping females who wanted to be just like her—cool, collected and important… and adored and admired. The only other female in Garden who had fans like that was Rinoa Heartlilly, that very pretty girl with the long, dark brown hair, but whereas many of Rinoa's fans also admired Quistis Trepe and were practically half-Trepies themselves, many of Quistis' female fans were not exactly fans of Rinoa. 

But there was one thing about Quistis Trepe that exasperated Seifer Almasy immensely. He wasn't exactly lacking in the brains department, and he was well aware that she had deliberately divulged only parts of the whole truth and that despite delivering repetitive summaries about his past, his notoriety and the fact that many in Garden and the world hated and feared him, she was still keeping something very important about him _from_ him. He could see it in her eyes, in that wariness that was always so apparent. Strange to say, he felt as if it wasn't just wariness that held her back, but protectiveness—she was protecting someone or something—

"You know," he said abruptly, "you haven't told me everything."

"A life story is not one that can be told in a matter of days," she answered dryly. "I've only just begun, you know." 

She was certainly a cool customer. Not a flicker of an eyelash gave her away, he thought, half-admiringly.

"That's not what I meant." He looked straight at those eyes. "You're hiding something from me."

To his surprise, her lips curved into a half-smile. "Perspicacious," she murmured, giving him a look that could only be interpreted as admiring and approving at the same time.

He wanted to blush and found himself looking away like a suddenly shy schoolboy. He also wanted a dictionary as soon as possible. 'Perspicacious' _sounded_ like a compliment, but he wasn't sure. He wasn't certain of anything around this woman. However, before either of them could say another word, someone called out through the open door behind them.

"Seifer! Oh, good, Quistis, you're here too!"

Rinoa Heartlilly was standing at the entrance to the room, smiling cheerfully. "I've brought them."

There were two people with her. One was a hulking, dark-skinned individual who resembled an ex-prize fighter; the other was a young woman about Quistis' height, with silver-fair hair that was cut in a stylish bob level with her chin, and an eye-patch.

"Fujin…Raijin?" His mouth spoke before he could collect his thoughts. Almost immediately he frowned. Those were their names, he was certain…but who were they?

"Hey, Seifer, ya remembered us!" exclaimed the hulking individual cheerfully. "How're ya doin'?"

"SEIFER." The silver-haired young woman eyed him grimly. She gave him a small smile.

Seifer felt oddly helpless. He didn't know these people—and he was just about to say so, when Quistis interrupted. She uncurled herself with a sort of elegant grace from the only chair in the room and stood up.

"He has amnesia," she explained with a pleasant smile. "He can't remember anyone, but sometimes his mouth moves faster than his brain."

Seifer was irrationally irritated. "I can speak for myself." He turned to the two strangers, flashing them a charming smile in contrast to the sharp tone he had used on Quistis. "Hey, sorry. I've got temporary amnesia—hit my head on some rock in the sea—so I don't remember anyone." He got off the bed with alacrity and jerked a thumb indicating the interior of his room. "Come in anyway."

Quistis and Rinoa exchanged glances. Then with one accord, they both stepped out of the room. Seifer hurried to the door and poked his head out, just in time to catch the tail-end of their conversation.

"…I think he needs to talk to Fujin and Raijin first. Thanks for bringing them up here, Rin." Quistis cleared her throat, sounding a little hoarse.

Rinoa tucked her arm into the taller girl's. "Any time. Now let's go get you a drink, Quisty. Your voice sounds horrid."

"Hey!" bellowed Seifer.

They turned around, Rinoa still smiling and Quistis with a slight frown on her face.

"Don't come back any time soon, Instructor," Seifer said cheekily, and slammed the door.

"RUDE." The silver-haired girl made her feelings known to him as soon as he faced them.

The hulking young man, on the other hand, was chortling. "Nah, he's the same ol' Seifer, Fuj, ya see? No Instructor can hold him down!"

Fujin kicked Raijin. "SEIFER. RUDE." She paused. "VERY RUDE," she added.

Seifer shrugged. "So?" He snorted, outwardly cool although he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She would probably be furious, he reflected, and add three more days in which he had to be courteous. With another shrug of his broad shoulders, he pushed thoughts of Quistis Trepe aside and turned to Fujin and Raijin. 

"So…"

"…"

Fujin cleared her throat. "TALK. QUISTIS." 

Seifer threw himself on his bed, leaning comfortably against the headboard, pillow at his back. "Yeah, she was telling me my life history. I'm finding out all the things about myself that I didn't know." He looked at them. "She mentioned," he said hesitantly, "that you were my posse, back before I made everyone hate me and did unmentionables." He studied them, his face growing grave. "Tell me," he said after a moment, "how bad was it?" 

Raijin and Fujin exchanged glances.   

"NOT YOURSELF," offered Fujin gently.

Raijin regarded him solemnly. "Yah. Fuj and I thought there was somethin' funny about ya, ya know, the way ya kept on talkin' about, oh, I dunno, but—" He broke off and shrugged. "We didn't know what happened to ya, ya know, until that lawyer lady said Ultimecia controlled you and ya couldn't have done nothing about it—"

 Fujin interrupted. "LAWYER. GENIUS."

"Yah, she's great," agreed Raijin amiably. "I never really thought, ya know, that ladies could be smart—OW! OW!"

Fujin had kicked him hard, glowering.

Seifer burst out laughing. Raijin and Fujin exchanged glances again, and then Raijin grinned broadly and Fujin managed a small, pleased smile. 

"SAME SEIFER," she commented.

Seifer stopped laughing, but he had a smile on his face. "Of course I'm the same," he told them. "I may have amnesia, but as Quistis points out, sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain and recognizes things before I can process them and think them through. I'm beginning to remember things, though, not much, just little bits and pieces. For example—" he looked at Fujin—"I remember you talked like that too, in the past, because..."

His posse nodded understandingly. Fujin had a speech problem. For some reason, she was unable to talk without stuttering and stammering unless she was talking at the top of her voice.

"So, ya know, ya have any questions?" asked Raijin. "We'll be happy to answer, ya know. We're only here one day…Garden said ya need lots of rest still and Dr. Kadowaki wants to check on ya, ya know."

Fujin nodded, her face serious and anxious.

Seifer gave them a devil-may-care grin. "I'm all right. A lot of fuss over nothing," he declared, then winced as a sharp pain shot through his chest.

"Man, ya not well yet, ya know," Raijin told him anxiously. "Ya want to come back home and rest?"

Seifer's brows drew themselves together in a frown. "No," he said quietly, surprising himself. "Not yet. I—" He paused, searching for the right words. "I think I need to stay here, even after my injuries are healed. I've been here most of my life, and the people here—there are people who have known me almost all my life—Quistis and the others." He stared at the floor briefly before looking up at them. "I think I'll find my answers here. Until then, I can't leave." 


	6. Quistis Past

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

This entire chapter is really a flashback to the past, hence it's in italics. The title is 'Quistis Past' and there's no grammar error about it. It isn't about Quistis' past; it's about Quistis in the past. So instead of calling it 'Times Past'—about her memory of the times in the past, I decided to call it  'Quistis Past'. I wanted to call it 'Things Fall Apart', after Chinua Achebe's book of the same name, but thought that I would need it for a more drastic chapter in future.       

I've been very encouraged by the reviews—reviews really make a writer happy, and it's worth it to slave over a story knowing that it makes people happy to read it. I'm so glad! Thank you all! 

Oh, before I forget—thank goodness Korea drew with the USA! I'm so relieved! Of course, I'm supporting Korea and Japan this World Cup—I'm Asian, see, Chinese, to be specific, though not from China. By the way, did anyone notice that the Korean goal-scorer was really good-lookin'? ^_^ 

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 6: Quistis Past

A YEAR AND A HALF AGO

She sat silently. The news had come two hours ago and still she remained in her position without moving. Time Compression was a bitter thing. In Time Compression, you learned too much. You learned your history, your life—and the history of others. Caught in that—that thing, her breath squeezed out of her at alternate turns and twists, afraid she might never escape, she had nevertheless broken free. Been set free. She, and the others, had returned, lives intact and, for the first time in so long, memories intact—even the memories they had lost with their SeeD training.

They had known each other so long ago, as the closest of friends in an orphanage—the orphanage they had all grown up in. The orphanage that Cid Kramer, headmaster of Balamb Garden, had lent his name to; the orphanage whose mother figure was the warm-hearted Edea. There had been seven of them, seven boys and girls, who would grow up one day to break the world and heal it. Did Edea know? She must have feared it—feared something. 

Ellone. She was the one whom they had first looked upon as their older sister, although she was closest to Squall. The girl with strange, time-linked powers, who had left the orphanage early and left her, Quistis, to cope with the others.

Squall Leonhart. He was so emotionless and nothing could touch him, save Ellone and Rinoa. Not even she could touch him, and she had tried. She had loved him and guarded him, and she had been afraid—afraid for him, afraid that one day, he would walk away and never come back, and that she had let him lose himself when she could have brought him back. But she had not been the one with that power. Like the others, he had forgotten. He had forgotten the boy who knew him best, and was his closest friend and fiercest rival all rolled into one. Seifer Almasy. Squall had other friends, though none were as close as he and Seifer had been. They argued as much as they agreed, and it was always a constant source of dispute whether they were best friends or best enemies.

Seifer, with that attitude that had been a part of him since his childhood. It was an attitude, however, that did not surface except when he was in a very bad mood, which was about half the time. He would then adopt the philosophy that had to do with making the whole world feel as badly as he did. In his better moods, Seifer Almasy was cool and untouchable, something like Squall in his SeeD days, but more human and, somehow, more attractive. Unlike Squall, he had seemed more of the earth—Quistis had never, in her wildest nightmares, imagined that he of all of them would be the one to walk away, and lose himself… 

She shied from the pain and turned her mind to other things, her head in her hands.

There was Irvine Kinneas, calm, pleasant, charming—and he suited that cowboy hat he now wore. He was a charmer even then, knowing how to play the ladies and win them to his side with his smile, his eyes, and the dramatic, courtly gestures. Beneath the demeanour of the ladies' man-to-be had lain a warm-hearted little boy whose easy smile and thoughtfulness won him friends.

Then there was Zell Dincht, a cheerful, impulsive, open-hearted little chap whose love for eating hotdogs stayed with him all the way, and who only lost his cool around Seifer—pretty much everyone got cross around Seifer, anyway…

Selphie Tilmitt made up the sixth member of their group. In a way, she was Zell's female equivalent—chirpy, bright, sunny, always cheerful—and even Seifer couldn't get her down when he was in one of his moods.

Finally, she, Quistis Trepe, the serious one—even more serious than Squall, who was merely emotionless—made up the final member of their circle. She had tried to take Ellone's place, but she had failed and everything had fallen apart. Squall withdrew into himself and she tried to draw him out, tried to bring him back, but she couldn't. Seifer, annoyed because she seemed to care more for Squall than for him, lost his temper with both of them. As Squall turned even from him, Seifer's moods grew steadily darker and more frequent. He even drove Quistis away with harsh words and actions, and never let her get within five feet of him—and they had been fairly good friends before, even if they did scrap with each other a good deal. Seifer argued with everyone…

Quistis closed her eyes.                                                           

That was how it had begun, with her trying to take Ellone's place, to help her friends. That had been her first failure, a failure she never wanted to see repeated. Squall had changed, Seifer grew bitter and cold, his attitude becoming his character now, Irvine drifted away, Zell was adopted somewhere, Selphie went on her own merry way…and she, Quistis, unable to handle Seifer, threw herself into trying to reach Squall, hoping that if she could bring him back, Seifer would naturally be less of a headache. But she had to leave before she could succeed and the memory of her failure had made her set her teeth. She was only a child then, but she swore to herself that Quistis Trepe would never again fail at anything. SeeD at fifteen, instructor beloved by tens of students before she was eighteen—nobody would ever associate the name of Quistis Trepe with failure.  

And even without her memories, she seemed to have picked up on Seifer and Squall when they were her students, and tried to succeed in what she had failed years ago. 

But did they remember?

Did anyone remember?

She should have tried harder to guard Seifer, because he was the one who had walked away and she had been unable to bring him back. But the solution, she had always thought, lay in breaking through Squall's walls.   

Slowly, Quistis rose and walked over to her door. She turned the knob, walked out, and shut the door behind her. She walked on, not really thinking where she was going, and took the elevator, which stopped on a certain floor. Still she walked on before she came to a stop outside a particular door. She stared at it. Should she knock? Slowly she lifted her hand. Slowly the door opened before her.

"Quistis?"

Why did the Headmaster look like that? As if—as if he had aged twenty years overnight. She'd never thought of it before, but like them, Cid Kramer, too, had suffered. What had it cost him to be separated from his wife all these years?

"I'm…I'm looking for Matron…"

"I'm sorry, Quistis. They—just told me—she—she's been in a—car accident…I'm going to her now…"

"Let me come with you, Sir…" 


	7. Cid's Reminiscences

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 7: Cid's Reminiscences

Cid Kramer, Headmaster of Balamb Garden, stopped where he was and looked down at the Quad, a small smile on his face. Quistis Trepe, Rinoa Heartlilly and Seifer Almasy were walking in step with one another across the Quad. Cid's gaze rested on the blonde and he nodded to himself. She had proved herself and Edea, as usual, had been right.

_"The operation will take thirteen hours, the surgeon says. Sir—Matron said—Matron wants me to save Seifer. She made me promise her." Quistis was pale and her eyes, red-rimmed, but she looked almost mutinous. "Sir, what is this all about? She said I was to ask you."_

Edea's words had recalled to Cid what he was supposed to do. So he returned her instructor's licence and told her the truth. 

Quistis had been stripped of her instructor's position for no other reason than because she had been needed to watch Seifer. Apparently, despite Squall's famous ability to be more close-mouthed than a superglued oyster, Edea Kramer had guessed and feared something close to the truth all those years ago when Squall visited her from the future—and had telegraphed her fears to Cid. Seifer had been blocked from every opportunity to become SeeD to keep him safe, at Edea's behest, and his own rebellious attitude had made it easier to decide not to admit him into SeeD. It also convinced Cid that Edea had been right, although neither of them was quite sure of what it was that they feared. 

When his wife had disappeared mysteriously, Cid knew without being told that the time was close at hand. Unsubstantiated rumours reached him that Edea had been seen in Galbadia and Timber, and almost immediately, Timber's resistance movement had sent their leader to ask SeeD for help. Cid Kramer was not a Garden Headmaster for nothing. He put two and two together, and took steps. He stripped Quistis of her position and locked Seifer up, then put Quistis to watch him. There were only two people in Garden who could take out Seifer when necessary—Quistis Trepe and Squall Leonhart, and Squall had to go to Timber. You couldn't ask an instructor to watch a student, especially when said instructor had more pressing duties. So of course, said instructor had been relieved of duties in the most effective possible manner. That way, Cid could skim over giving reasons. As headmaster, he had sole power over the appointment and dismissal of instructors. A suspension would have been too messy, what with having to appoint committees to look into the conduct complained of, and endless reviews and appeals, and Cid had had a strong feeling that time was running out. 

Needless to say, Quistis hadn't looked very pleased when Cid had finished the story.

_"Liberi Fatali," she said bitterly. "That's what we are. No matter what anybody did, it couldn't stop Ultimecia, it couldn't stop Seifer, it couldn't stop any of it from happening, because it had to happen. And now I've got to go save someone who tortured us, fought us, nearly killed us all and almost destroyed the world into the bargain. And Matron's lying in a hospital, and everyone's celebrating the fall of Ultimecia and the capture of the Sorceress' Knight, and here I am, getting my licence back, and being informed that I failed Seifer Almasy once as his childhood friend, once as his instructor, and once as his guard. And now, to redeem myself, I'm sure, I have to SAVE him! Hyne DAMMIT!"_

But she had run true to form—Quistis always did. She had calmed down almost immediately after her tirade, and while she hadn't apologised for her outburst, she had given every sign that she was going to do as Edea had begged. She had told him to tell Matron if she woke up—when she woke up—that all would be well. Then she had marched away.

He hadn't known what she was up to until she ended up in the infirmary, in the contagious ward, for having a particularly virulent strain of measles, coupled with whooping cough. Apparently, she'd been scouring the world on matters related to Seifer Almasy's trial. Unfortunately, she was warded five days before the trial and nobody was allowed to see her. In her condition, nobody wanted to, anyway…Edea, surprisingly enough, hadn't fretted about Seifer, and instead assured Cid from her hospital bed that everything would turn out fine—and she had been right. Quistis had managed to reach a young lawyer before she came down with the measles et cetera. Said young lawyer turned up and then whacked the whole world upside down. 

Cid shook himself from his reverie and nodded to the three young people as they approached. Rinoa and Quistis saluted smartly; Seifer just nodded. He remembered vaguely that he had never saluted to Cid like that; he could never do so. His brow wrinkled: he had never made SeeD. Why? He didn't realise that he had spoken aloud until Quistis turned her head sharply. 

"You could try again if you want to," she said, eyeing him severely. "But I don't think you wanted to. After the trial, you didn't come back to Garden."

That was true. 

"You might be a little too old now," offered Rinoa in a mild tone. "Usually SeeD candidates must pass by the time they're eighteen."

"And I screwed that up, too," finished Seifer with a laugh that had a hard edge to it. "I seem to have screwed up a lot of things."

Quistis seemed sunk in thought, a dangerous glint sparking in her eyes. Her voice was hard. "I think you would pass SeeD. There was never any reason why you shouldn't have passed."  _Headmaster didn't play fair. You ought to get another chance, if you want a shot at it again._

Seifer and Rinoa gave her startled glances, but Quistis' jaw was set and she didn't appear to be in a mood to be trifled with, so neither of them dared to say anything. They walked on in silence and presently, they reached the infirmary, where Dr. Kadowaki was waiting, looking a little impatient.

"There you are," she said, frowning. "Quistis, could you do me a favour? Can you make sure that some sort of announcement goes out reminding all students and SeeDs not to climb the scaffolding that's been set up in the ballroom? There are apparently idiots out there who think that it's fun to scale a rickety and incomplete structure without safety equipment. I have two broken arms and a concussion in here now."

As soon as they were out of earshot, Rinoa turned to Quistis. "Without safety equipment? I thought SeeDs could scale anything. I mean, think of some of the things we did."

"I suppose Dr. Kadowaki doesn't want to see any unnecessary injuries," pointed out Quistis. "Courage is fine, but idiocy can't be excused. Besides, if I know anything about SeeDs, well, there was probably a betting pool on the results."

Rinoa giggled. "Yeah. I say—Quistis?"

"Yes?" Quistis wondered at the sudden serious tone in Rinoa's voice. 

"If he decides to go for SeeD, he'll want Hyperion back." Rinoa's voice was quiet. "And—well—after what you told me—are you sure it's safe? What if he—" She stopped.

"I'm giving it back to him tomorrow."

Rinoa whirled on Quistis, her mouth open. "Quistis Trepe!"

Quistis held up her hands helplessly. "I know. But I'm hoping—hoping it'll jog his memory—somehow—"

Rinoa stared at her. "What did Fujin say?"

Quistis sighed. "Nothing that's of help to us. She said that Seifer appeared as usual those last few days before I found him—"

"Rescued him—" corrected Rinoa.

"She did mention he had been a bit broody and moody, but she and Raijin hadn't thought much about it, putting it down to Seifer-in-a-mood. Apparently, he's been brooding and mood-ing since his trial ended."

"That doesn't get us very far."

"No," agreed Quistis. "But Fujin says she's trying to get information…she didn't say how, though."

"Reading his diary?" guessed Rinoa. "I would, if I were her."

"That is, if Seifer ever kept a diary…" murmured Quistis dubiously. She glanced at Rinoa. "You didn't tell Squall, did you?"

"Of course not. I know Seifer well enough—and he _is_ very proud." Rinoa hesitated. "Did you—have you told Matron?"

Quistis stared at the floor. "No." She lifted her chin. "I don't want her worried."

"But she has a right to know," Rinoa argued softly. "She loves him so much, Quistis. At his trial, she even turned up to testify for him although she was sick and—and almost dying—"

"I know. It's just—although she wouldn't tell Seifer, I think he would see the truth in her face…"

Rinoa took a deep breath. "I hope," she said quietly, "that with the three of us working on it, we can get somewhere."

Quistis nodded.


	8. Hyperion

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

Thanks to all my reviewers again, especially those who reviewed several chapters, and by their reviews, have kept me going. =) You know who you are.

This story should take a more dramatic turn within the next few chapters, as well as moving into heavy-duty Seiftis territory, so I will take a little longer to post new chapters. By the way, italics usually represent flashbacks to the past. I should've explained that earlier, but thought it a common device and so left it out. I guess it confused some readers. =p

Happy reading!

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 8: Hyperion

It was a bee-you-ti-ful morning. Seifer found himself whistling as he set about showering, shaving and giving his teeth the morning rubdown. The morning ablutions completed, he actually hummed as he picked out his outfit for the day, which coincidentally looked like the one he had worn the day before. His wardrobe consisted of largely of black muscle shirts, sleeveless black vests and black trousers, with an occasional slash of red manifesting itself as a logo or minute motif. [Gold: I'm sorry, but his underwear details are private. Only Seifer and Quistis ought to know anything about them. The rest of us must just let our imagination do the work. :)] Some of them had been brought over by Raijin and Fujin when they visited, and the others had been acquired in a shopping trip he had undertaken the day before in the company of that cowboy guy, Irvine, and his girlfriend, Selphie, who had been aggravatingly and persistently cheerful and bubbly throughout.  

He winced a little as he dressed. His healing rib gave him a twinge now and then, as if to remind him that its condition was still somewhat nebulous.  But something was still missing. Slowly, Seifer reached for the white trenchcoat, marked with red crosses, which lay over the back of a chair. Fujin and Raijin had brought it. His fingers closed tightly on it, but he did not put it on. He was trying to remember—something about this trenchcoat stirred him inside, and it woke brief flashes of memories, but they eluded his mental grasp as he tried to catch hold of them before they escaped him altogether. With a quick oath of exasperation, he slung on the trenchcoat, fingers automatically arranging the fit of the collar to his liking, and strode to the door.

When it opened, he found Quistis Trepe standing on his doorstep. Now, Seifer Almasy prided himself on being able to rise to any occasion, and this was no exception. One corner of his mouth turned up in a slow, sexy half-smile. 

And Quistis' stomach growled in audible reply.

The snicker that broke from Seifer earned him a glare from a justifiably annoyed, if slightly sheepish Quistis.

"Stop laughing."

Seifer snickered more loudly, and Quistis, with an exasperated click of her tongue, put her hand up to his mouth to silence him. She had important business and it didn't involve drawing everyone's attention. —But she hadn't counted on the immediate explosion between them. He stopped laughing the second her fingers touched his lips and their eyes locked—cool blue met deep green—and heat flared in an instant. Seifer's mouth was slightly open, and very hot under her fingertips, and when he closed his mouth, his lips brushed tenderly against her fingers. In response, Quistis' face flamed as she snatched her hand away.

Swallowing her embarrassment, she mumbled, gesturing with the long bundle she held: "Uh, I—we need to go back in."

He complied, stepping aside to let her in first.

Inside, she stood in the middle of the room, her eyes fixed on the bundle. She lifted her eyes to his face, colour sweeping her cheeks again, but she bravely held out the bundle.

"This is yours."

Seifer had never had any doubt that he was strongly attracted to her, but now, new knowledge came to him. The way she had blushed and reacted a moment ago told him that she was at least as attracted to him as he was to her. As he idly pushed aside the cloth that wrapped the long bundle, he stole a quick glance at her, and found her looking at him, with an expression in her eyes that could only be described as half-shy, half-unwilling. For some reason, it made him stop what he was doing and smile at her. 

Her reaction was immediate. She went red again and pretended to be very interested in the rug on the floor. He might have gone on to test her a little further, but then something else caught his attention.

Cold metal under his fingertips.

The name flew into his mind, warming him.

_Hyperion._

It was as if a switch had been turned on.

_"Puberty Boy."_

_Clink of metal against metal._

_Scars on their foreheads._

_"Instructor…"_

Quistis' breath caught in her throat as he turned to face her.

"Instructor."

He sounded—like the old Seifer Almasy. Blood drained from Quistis' face, and Seifer's face flashed alarm as he darted forward, thinking that she was going to faint.

"Quistis?"

She held up a hand and he took it in his, but her attention wasn't on his touch. Her face remained white as she stared at him. "Seifer, do you remember?"

There was a silence as each tried to read the truth in the other's face.

"I remembered something when I touched Hyperion, but it's gone now," he said carefully.

He did sound disappointed, she thought, but she could not trust him, not just yet. "You know it's Hyperion?"

His smile was faintly wistful. "It's a part of me. That much I know."

"You…don't remember anything else?" Her voice was low, her eyes searching his face with something akin to fear in them.

"No." He gently dropped her hand and watched as her shoulders relaxed.

"Oh. I…I'm sorry."

He could see that she was sincerely sorry for him, but he could also sense her relief. He shrugged. "Shall we go for breakfast?"

She rewarded him with a small smile and turned to lead the way.

But behind her, a quick flash of pain crossed his face. Had she hated the old him so much as to fear the return of his memory? Whatever it was, he had to find out quickly. That was why he had lied to her. He _had_ remembered a little. It was not much, but it was a start to finding out who he really was.


	9. Three Little Words

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

I've tried to make Seifer interact with all the other SeeDs-who-saved-the-world. It won't always be funny, but it'll be fun. Besides, he can't just talk to Quistis or Rinoa all the time.

By the way, um, well, I'm not British-born Chinese. I'm Chinese, and I'm an England fan when it comes to football, but I'm not an_ English_ fan. Just an England fan who happens to be Chinese, does not come from China, and lives in a mysterious place somewhere in this world. Oddly enough, aside from my own country, I love both China and England, and have more than a passing fondness for Korea and Japan. So now, I'd like to apologise to Makoto Almasy and anyone else whom I accidentally misled, although I had no intention of misleading anybody, really.

I wish England had won. Never mind, by the next World Cup, it will be an even greater force to reckon with. This is the best England team I have seen for years! By the way, can someone tell me why the United Kingdom sends teams from Wales, England and Scotland to compete? Why not just one UK team?

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 9: Three Little Words

Squall Leonhart grumbled silently to himself. Sometimes he wondered how he managed to get himself into these situations. There he was, Commander of Balamb Garden, silent, stern and unyielding—and he'd been unable to say no to his girlfriend when she asked him to test Seifer Almasy's skill with the gunblade. He knew, of course, that Quistis was also behind that request, and that made it even harder to refuse. It was difficult to say no to Rinoa—she never asked for very much and he did want to please her as much as possible—but when Quistis came into the picture, he couldn't say no, and he had a very good reason for that.

He felt guilty.

_"Talk to a wall."_

Part of him had always known that he should not have said that. When Rinoa learned of it—she happened to have asked him about Quistis' past as his instructor—she had let him know in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of him. Rinoa had grown very fond of Quistis in almost no time at all, much to Squall's surprise, and she took Quistis' part. He had found himself rather ashamed of his behaviour—somehow it had never occurred to him at that time that Quistis had been a very lonely person. His comment that night had been completely uncalled for. He didn't know how to apologise, and Quistis didn't seem to be bothered, but he fancied, sometimes, that she was a little distant towards him. 

"Thanks for coming, Squall."

Quistis' voice broke into Squall's thoughts. She was standing a little distance away, clipboard in hand and a whistle around her neck. Her face was stern as she looked at the two opponents, and Squall suddenly felt like her student all over again. He took one look at Seifer and was instantly reminded that Seifer had jabbed an elbow in his eye some days before. It was difficult to see the blond man and not remember that this was Ultimecia's Knight, who had tortured him and nearly killed all of them. 

"I'd like to remind you both that this is a test, not a duel to the death. Any attempts to turn it into the latter and I'll add another thirty-nine scars to the one you already have on your forehead. Two blasts on my whistle mean that I want the test to end. Is that understood? Good. Begin!"

She stepped back and watched them with mounting anxiety, her hand straying to her whip, in case it should be needed. Her memory was not so short that she had forgotten the incident that gave both Seifer and Squall mirror scars on their foreheads. That time, she had reached them too late, and had to content herself with delivering useless lectures and slapping them with detention.

Circle.

A white trenchcoat whirled softly.

A fur-trimmed jacket fluttered quietly.

A deft flick here.

A quick parry there.

Stroke.

Slash.

Slice.

Fall and roll.

Kick the opponent's feet out from under him.

Slash, slice, cut, thrust, parry, attack—

Quistis swallowed as her eyes blurred with sudden tears and a lump rose in her throat. Those moves…It was as if she was nearly eighteen again, and teaching two of Garden's best students, both her despair and her pride. Squall Leonhart, silent and emotionless, was brilliant in both theory and practical attack, and would have been a perfect joy to teach, if his instructors had been able to coax _some_ emotion out of him. Seifer Almasy, arrogant yet possessed of an indisputable charm, was equally scintillating, and would have been a perfect joy to teach, if he hadn't tried his very best to antagonise _all_ his instructors without exception. They were Garden's finest, and nobody could touch them when it came to fighting, because they had found the secret. Each fought with their gunblade, not as two separate entities, but as one, as partners, as two halves of a whole. _That_ was the way to fight. Artistry, skill, talent, beauty, all moulded into one…

As she watched, Quistis realised something. Seifer was evidently weaker. His body remembered the old skills, but unlike Squall, he had not trained for a long time, and his lack of the necessary strength and stamina to withstand Squall's assault was beginning to tell on him. Fear closed around Quistis' heart and in response, words flew to her lips before she could retract them.

"Stop!" she cried. "Enough! I've seen enough!"

Two loud blasts of the whistle sounded, but neither Squall nor Seifer paid any attention. Both were too caught up in the battle, which was progressively heading towards the duel-to-the-death scenario that Quistis had warned them against, despite Seifer's weakened state. Now their blades were mere blurs against the air. Quistis' mood flared into sudden fury at their disobedience, and she blew deafening blasts on her whistle without stopping.

"Okay, okay, you can stop blowing on that thing now!" shouted Seifer. 

The whistle dropped from Quistis' lips and she stood silently as her two former students, gunblades hoisted over their shoulders in nearly identical positions, strode towards her.

Still slightly shaken, Quistis saluted Squall. "Commander, sir, thank you for your time."

He returned the salute and then turned to Seifer. "No holding back next time," he said briefly.

Seifer nodded silently and Quistis watched, completely floored, as Squall walked away and Seifer looked on calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She had never seen them part on such—such _amicable_ terms before. Perhaps Seifer's condition had brought out the better part in Seifer and Squall…or else amnesia had fried the part of Seifer's brain that made him consistently attempt to irritate decent, law-abiding folk.

"Are you all right?" Seifer's voice was a little gruff, and he looked away when she glanced at him. 

She looked down at her clipboard, hoping that she wasn't blushing. There were decidedly great disadvantages to having fair skin. "I'm all right," she answered softly. "How are you feeling?" She risked a quick glance at him and saw that he was still flushed from the fight.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "All right." The colour in his cheek deepened.

They stood there in a strained silence, each strangely unable to think of anything to say. Seifer, thought Quistis, feeling increasingly desperate, was standing too close to her. He was so near that she swore she could feel his body heat—almost as blazing as she had felt it yesterday when her hand had rested on his mouth—and coupled with the fact that her own skin was feeling flushed with sudden and unaccountable warmth, the temperature was getting almost unbearable. Her brain reminded her agitatedly that she had to move, _immediately_. But strangely enough, she could not bring herself to lift her head or to move from her frozen position. Now his head was bent close to hers, looking over her shoulder, and his breath warm against her cheek. She could _feel_ him, but she could not hear him; her heart was pounding in her ears. He was so close that if she turned her face, he'd end up kissing her accidentally—

And then the doors to the gym creaked open. 

"Hey, Quisty! Squall said you were here—oh—Seifer?"

Quistis made as if to move away, but Seifer's hand closed down on her shoulder and she remained in place. Selphie, who had just entered, cocked a curious eye at them. Hmm…they seemed to be standing _awfully_ close to one another and Seifer's _hand_ was actually _resting_ on Quistis' _shoulder_! If she didn't know better, she'd say that Seifer Almasy had been on the verge of _kissing_ Quistis Trepe. To top it all, they were both _blushing_! 

"Am I interrupting something?" she asked archly.

Seifer looked at her and Selphie instantly fell victim to his half-smile. _Oh Hyne, that guy's hot. How does Quisty stand it? She can't be red-blooded if she doesn't respond to that! _  

"Not at all." Seifer's face softened a little as he glanced briefly at Quistis. "The instructor was just running through her report on my duel with Puberty Boy—"

Three faces altered subtly, each trying to hide emotions arising from sudden revelations.

 _He likes her!_ Selphie realised. _Hyne, I think he likes her! The way he looked at her—oh, wait 'til I tell the others! _

 Quistis, on the other hand, felt as if something had struck her. She backed away from Seifer, who let her go, and stared at him with wary eyes. He said nothing; as soon as the words 'Puberty Boy' had left his mouth, he knew that he had given himself away.

"You remember." Her voice was flat.

He watched her narrowly, trying to gauge how best to answer her. "Very little," he responded.

Selphie looked from Quistis to Seifer, puzzled. One minute they had looked like a couple of blushing lovers, and the next, they were circling each other like deadly enemies. O-o-o-o-o-okay—so maybe they weren't that hot on each other—_yet_!

"How much?"

"Being here at Garden. Puber—" a cough here—"I mean, Leonhart. Chicken wuss—er, Dincht—and his hot dogs." He paused and touched the scar at his forehead. "And this." Another pause. "And you, Instructor."

Selphie blinked, stars in her eyes. Wow. The way Seifer had said those last few words—"And you, Instructor"—he sounded _so_ romantic, a world of meaning in those three little words—

"And Ultimecia?" Quistis' voice was still hard.

Selphie winced for Seifer. Ooooh. Quistis wasn't the Ice Queen. She was _steel_—immovable, steady, focused, inhuman...or else how could she have resisted Seifer? Selphie shook her head. She and Rinoa _really_ had to teach Quistis how to handle guys, or else her friend would never get together with Seifer, not the way things were going.

"The evil sorceress I'm supposed to have helped?" Seifer gave a snort. "Look, all I remember is studying here. That's all. No Multimedia or whatever her name is, no going evil and waving Hyperion around, okay?"

Selphie giggled when she heard Seifer's name for Ultimecia. Then she gulped. Her giggle had drawn the attention of Seifer and Quistis, who were now glaring at her. She held up both hands. "Don't shoot the messenger! Besides," she added, "it isn't _my_ fault you were both so busy gazing at each other that you forgot little old me." She grinned as furious blushes decorated Seifer and Quistis' faces. _Aha. Score._

Quistis coughed uncomfortably. "Exactly what did you come here for, then?"

Selphie opened her eyes very wide. "Why, this is the gym! Free country, you know? Anyway, Zell sent me to ask you, Quisty, if you're going with him and Seifer to Matron's."

Quistis shook her head. "No, I have classes for the rest of the day. Are you or any of the others going along?"

Selphie thought for a moment. "I don't think so." She looked at Seifer. "You'd better hurry. Zell's waiting!" Then she wrinkled her nose. "I say, you had better take a shower first. You do smell, you know."

Seifer snorted. "I doubt Matron is the sort who'll care whether I smell or not."

Selphie cocked her head on one side. "True—but her nose will care, and she's still Matron, so likely as not she'll pop you into a bath herself if you don't shower immediately! Don't you agree, Quisty?"

Quistis, who was used to the smell—she wasn't an instructor for nothing, and she had gone through hundreds upon hundreds of smelly training sessions—conceded, "Well, Matron is rather firm about baths. I don't notice the smell myself, since I'm used to it, but I'm sure it isn't a pleasant one. There's a reason why perfumers don't make fragrances out of sweat and gunblade oil. Go shower."

Seifer looked at her, his face and eyes suddenly cold and arrogant. "Make me, Instructor," he drawled, his eyes gleaming suggestively.

Quistis' eyes darted cold blue fury as she looked at him, seeing the old, errant and arrogant SeeD candidate who had made her life a living hell, who had never accorded her the respect or cooperation her other students did, and who had openly sneered at her and defied her authority time and time again, just for the sake of frustrating her. She had had _enough_!

When Seifer Almasy opened his eyes, he found himself sitting bolt upright against the wall of a shower stall. Hanging on the rail was a large, fluffy white towel with BALAMB GARDEN scrawled in large, ponderous letters at its edge. There was also a pair of sweatpants as well as a large T-shirt, neither of them his. He wondered briefly where Quistis had obtained the clothes and took a long, deep breath, his face darkening. Fine. So that was the way Quistis Trepe wanted to play it. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In case you guys didn't catch the Three Little Words of this chapter's title, they are—"And you, Instructor." ^_^


	10. New Developments

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

About Gold:

I am not from England. I am not British-born. I am 100% Chinese. I am not from China. I don't live in China either. I live in Asia. I am very young, less than twenty-three, but no longer eighteen. I adore Final Fantasy VIII, because of the characters. My favourites are obviously Quistis and Seifer. ^_^ I love Quistis best, because like her, I too was a teacher once, at eighteen, teaching smart sixteen-year-olds. Too bad none of my students were as cute as Seifer Almasy. Fortunately, none of them behaved as badly as he did. Still, I faced the same problems as Quistis, because I was so very young—not like the usual senior teachers in manner etc. Similarly, I was able to connect well with my students because our ages were so close. 

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 10: NEW DEVELOPMENTS

Quistis had finished her classes for the day. She stretched a little as the evening sun came through the windows, reddish gold light draping across the desks and chairs. She paused a moment to admire the effect, wishing that she could paint it, or at least have a camera handy to capture the pretty play of the sunset light that transformed the Spartan furniture from prosaic every day objects into things that could almost be called beautiful. 

A cough at the door alerted her to the presence of another. 

"INSTRUCTOR." Fujin nodded to her.

"Just Quistis, please." Quistis returned the nod with a quick smile. "Are you here to see Seifer? I'm afraid that he's gone out for the day and I'm not sure if he's back yet. Would you like me to give him a call?" 

Fujin shook her head. "NEGATIVE. SEE _YOU_."

"Oh." Quistis thought for a moment. "Will you give me a few seconds?" she asked apologetically. "I need to get this cleared up." As she hastily piled books and papers into her arms, she kept up a conversation, occasionally turning to look back at the silver-haired girl who was patiently leaning against the doorjamb. "Seifer went with Zell to see Matron—you know, Edea Kramer, the Headmaster's wife. She's at the Kramer Orphanage—still running it."

"CHICKEN WUSS?" interjected Fujin in a surprised tone.

Quistis decided not to argue with her over the right way to address Zell. "None of us were free and Zell wanted to see her. I thought it best for Seifer to see Matron as soon as possible."

Fujin folded her arms. "EDEA. WHEELCHAIR?"  

"I'm afraid so. But she's managing really well and we all go to see her every now and then. Someone always trots down every week or so, and we have dinner together when we can. Rinoa's idea." Quistis straightened up. "There, I'm done. Shall we go now?"

As they walked out and along the corridor, Fujin glanced at Quistis, who was laden with books and papers. "HELP?" 

"No, thanks," answered Quistis, with a smile. 

They ran into Rinoa outside the staff room.

"Fujin!" exclaimed Rinoa with a delighted smile. "Hi! How are you? How's Raijin?"

"FINE," responded Fujin. 

"Have you eaten?" inquired Rinoa. "No? Then join us, do. The cafeteria has just started serving dinner, I think. "

"It'll have to be just the three of us," said Quistis meaningfully.

Rinoa's eyebrows shot into her hair, but she nodded quickly. "We can go to my room."

"What about Squall?" asked Quistis.

"Girl talk," said Rinoa promptly.

"Selphie?" pointed out Quistis, with a vivid memory of Selphie's attempts to interrogate her after she had unceremoniously cast Sleep, Float, and then bundled Seifer off to the showers. 

Rinoa thought for a moment. "We'll just tell her it's about her birthday present. If she comes near us, she dies."

Quistis couldn't help smiling. "Well done. All right—I'll deposit these books and papers on my desk, and then I'll go get us some dinner. I'll see you both at your room, okay, Rinoa? Fujin?"

"Okay."

"AFFIRMATIVE."

Quistis had just emerged from the cafeteria, carrying several plastic bags of food in one hand and drinks in the other, when her mobile phone rang. It took her a little while to re-juggle everything before she could pull out her ringing 'phone and answer it. "Hello?"

"Instructor, " drawled a familiar male voice.

"Seifer?" She caught her breath at the sound of his voice. "Where are you?"

His answer nearly made her eyes pop out of their sockets. "Having dinner at Mrs Dincht's."

Despite popping eyes, her reply was swift. "Get me Zell."

"Why?" demanded Seifer on the other end.

Quistis rolled her eyes. "Because I don't believe you, that's why."

"Have it your way. By the way, our car got totalled."

Quistis' jaw dropped. "WHAT? Almasy!!! Hello?! _Hello_?!"

"Uh, Quistis? It's me."

Quistis' blue eyes narrowed in a flash and her lips thinned. "Zell Dincht," she said between her teeth. "_What—is—going—on_?"

He coughed. "Uh, well, Seifer and I are having dinner at my ma's house…" His voice trailed off.

There was a long silence.

"Quistis…? Are you still there…?"

Quistis cleared her throat. "Yes, I am. I thought I heard you say that you invited Seifer to dinner at your house."

"Quisty, you know my ma."

Yes, she did. Ma Dincht had a heart of gold, and she had been fiercely on the side of Seifer Almasy for reasons Zell would never fathom and could never know. But that was another matter. Now that the dinner issue was settled—"Zell, what was it Seifer was saying about the car being _totalled_?"

Meanwhile, Rinoa and Fujin were comfortably ensconced in Rinoa's room. Rinoa was curled up on her bed, waving her hands animatedly as she told Fujin all about her last mission. Fujin, sitting a little stiffly in the only armchair in the room, was to all appearances listening closely. Then someone interrupted with a knock on the door.

"That must be Quisty!" Rinoa tumbled off the bed and ran to open the door. "Hey! Ooh—food!"

An annoyed-looking Quistis stalked into the room, grimly depositing bags of food on the desk. Rinoa and Fujin exchanged glances.

"Something happen?" asked Rinoa brightly.

Quistis rolled her eyes and began undoing the packets of food. "Nothing unexpected," she said dryly. "Zell and Seifer called to tell me that they had totalled the car."

Rinoa winced. "Ooh. That's a lot of gil gone up in smoke." 

Fujin snorted. "IDIOTS."

"Are they all right, though?" Rinoa put in anxiously. "They're not hurt? How did it happen, by the way?"

"Apparently they had a near run-in with another vehicle. They miraculously escaped injury, thanks to air-bags." Quistis' hands trembled a little as she spoke, and her neck tensed visibly. "Now they're having dinner at Ma Dincht's house."

Rinoa shivered a little. "Thank goodness," she murmured.

Fujin, however, looked worried. "ACCIDENT?"

"Yes, but they're all right." Quistis began opening the packets of food, hiding her shock behind a brisk manner. "The other vehicle got away unscathed—it was a lorry or something like that." Her hands shook and she bit her lip. "I'd just like to know what possessed them to go off _together_ in a _car_, for Hyne's sake." She viciously stabbed a straw into a cup and turned to hand it to either Rinoa or Fujin. "Fujin! What happened?"

Rinoa's gasp echoed Quistis' horror. Fujin had lifted one arm. The sleeve of her dark blue-and-silver cardigan had fallen back from her wrist and revealed a bandaged forearm. "ATTACK," stated Fujin when she saw the alarm on the other girls' faces.

"On you?" exclaimed Rinoa, a little too loudly. She lowered her voice to the other extreme, speaking in hushed tones. "But why? And when? I thought you said you were fine," she added reproachfully to Fujin.

Fujin frowned and shrugged her shoulders. "I'M FINE." She pointed to the bandage. "LONG CUT." 

"When?" asked Quistis, also with a frown. 

"YESTERDAY. ROBBERS." Fujin gave a grin that was surprisingly reminiscent of a shark. "THEY RAN." 

Rinoa gave her an anxious look. "I'm glad you're all right," she said sincerely. "Here—this is yours, I think. It's the curried chicken." She passed Fujin the first packet of food Quistis had handed her. "That mine? Thanks, Quistis. Okay—let's start."

Fujin swallowed a mouthful of curried chicken and took a sip of her drink. Then, much to the other two girls' surprise, she reached for her left boot. She unlaced it halfway and then reached into it without taking it off. After appearing to scrabble around it for a while, she produced, as if by magic, a floppy disk. Rinoa and Quistis stared at it.

"Is that—would that happen to belong to Seifer?" asked Quistis. 

Fujin gave her a look. "OF COURSE. IMPORTANT."

"How would you know—I mean, surely he has lots of disks lying around," pointed out Rinoa sceptically.

Fujin did not take kindly to Rinoa's tone and her single visible eye flashed fury. "RAGE," she snarled, slamming down the floppy disk.

"Wait, wait," said Rinoa hurriedly. "Don't get angry with us, please. What I mean to say is, well, did you look through the disk to be sure?"

Fujin snorted. "NEGATIVE. DISHONOURABLE."

Quistis quietly pressed a sympathetic hand on Rinoa's knee and hazarded a cautious guess. "Was it the only unusual thing Seifer had?"

Fujin nodded. "AFFIRMATIVE."

"How is it unusual?" asked Rinoa, rather subdued. She didn't feel pleased with Fujin—the girl had practically accused her of being dishonourable—but then, this involved Seifer's life.  

Fujin held up the disk. "NOT LIKE HIS." 

"If it isn't his, then we should be able to look through it," said Quistis decisively. "If it's Seifer's, then neither Rinoa nor I would dream of looking through it without his permission, but this is different." 

Fujin blinked. "MAYBE." She appeared to be considering the matter. Then she turned to Rinoa. "SORRY."

Rinoa relaxed and smiled. "It's okay. I really didn't mean to be dishonourable. You're right—if it's Seifer's, we shouldn't just look through it without asking him first."

At that moment, Quistis' mobile phone rang again, and her face darkened. "I hope it isn't Zell or Seifer," she muttered as she reached for it. "I swear, if they create any more—hello? Zell!" She listened for a few seconds and then grew very pale. "What? Is—is anyone hurt? All right. Yes." She turned to Fujin and Rinoa.

Fujin had also gone very pale. "SEIFER?"

Quistis went a little whiter as she glanced briefly at Fujin. "Yes, and Zell. Mrs Dincht's house was amongst three houses firebombed twenty minutes ago. Zell called to say they're in trouble. Fire spread to other houses in the area. He and Seifer are helping out there." She stood up. "Rinoa—"

"I know." Rinoa was already heading towards the door. "You and Fujin head on down. I'll tell Squall and the others." She stopped and turned, her eyes huge with worry. "You take care, okay, and make sure Zell and Seifer and Ma Dincht are all right. Don't worry about Garden—we'll be there."

Fujin spoke. "THANK YOU."

Quistis didn't say anything, but she and Rinoa exchanged a quick, tight hug. Then they headed their separate ways.  


	11. Hero

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

My warmest thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially people who made the effort to review every chapter. It's nice to know people liked this. ^_^

I'm not going to tell who did the firebombing just yet. You can all keep guessing. Why did Seifer attempt suicide? What did Rinoa mean when she said Quistis rescued him? And remember Quistis said that he nearly drowned in the sea during a storm (see part 2)? Also, how did Hyperion save Seifer (See part 3)?

And, of course, the biggest question—how is Gold going to tie all these loose ends up, plus a few more loose ends still unrevealed? Heh heh. It's Gold's secret, and boy, has she tied it up! *huge, self-satisfied grin*

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 11: Hero

Thick black plumes of acrid smoke twisted in the air, spiralling upwards and painting their surroundings with a fine layer of black dust. There was a whole line of houses on fire, about ten of them or so, and the street milled with people fleeing the scene as well as braver folk trying to help put out the fire. From a safe distance, news crews watched and waited for an opportunity to interview someone—anyone. The local police had just arrived and were busy cordoning off the area and shooing away the curious, who were there mainly to see something exciting. Sirens wailed through the air as an ambulance tried to plough its way through the crowd, which persisted in hanging around despite repeated police pleas to stay away and not hinder rescue efforts.   

Seifer Almasy wiped his sooty face with a filthy sleeve as he surveyed the scene. He and Zell had organised most of the men on the street into a human chain, filling pails of water and passing them along a long line, to try and limit the spread of the fire, since no other help seemed to be forthcoming. They had spent the first half hour dashing in and out of the houses, helping to pull people out, and restraining many from attempting to go back to retrieve their possessions. Ma Dincht had been slightly hurt in the explosion that took place when the firebomb hit her home, and was in shock for the moment. 

"Where the bloody hell is the Hyne-damned fire engine, Dincht?" Seifer bellowed across to Zell.  

Zell grabbed a pail from the man next to him and shoved it to Seifer. "Twenty miles away at another fire! It's on its way here, keep your pants on!" he shouted back grumpily. Then he turned his attention to his dazed mother, who was in the protective arms of a neighbour. "Ma, you hang on, okay? I'll be with you in a second, I promise."

Seifer scowled. "Stupid fools," he muttered to nobody in particular, and resumed hauling buckets of water. He wondered whether Quistis was there yet.

A shriek rang out. Then some women began to scream and others cried out. The head and shoulders of a figure had appeared amidst the smoke and flames that surrounded the whole of the second floor of one of the burning houses. Then it disappeared. Above the hubbub and tumult, one small, elderly woman shot out of the crowd and headed towards the house, screaming at the top of her voice. A soot-streaked policeman darted in front of her and grabbed her, but she continued to scream, and kicked and struggled.

"_My daughter's in there! Let me go!"_ she half-sobbed, half-screamed, near hysteria by now. _"I tell you, my girl's in there, and she's blind and in a wheelchair, she can't get out…"_

"Almasy—Almasy?!" Zell turned around angrily, a full pail in each hand. Then his eyes widened. "Great galloping hot dogs!"

"Zell?"

He turned and promptly spilled half the water he was carrying. "Quistis! And—" he shot a glance at the silver-haired, garnet-eyed girl with Quistis. "Fujin?"

Quistis grabbed one of his pails. "Where's Seifer? Is he all right? Are you all right? Is Ma Dincht all right?" she asked nervously.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," Zell answered. His face sobered. "My ma's had a bit of a shock. She's over there—keep an eye on her for me, will you, Quisty? I gotta help Almasy."  

Fujin grabbed the other pail. "SEIFER," she demanded.

Zell swallowed. "He went into a burning house to rescue a girl. That one." He added with honest admiration in his voice, "He moved so fast that I didn't know he was gone. I guess he'll need help. Here." He thrust the pails at Fujin and then raced off without another word.

Quistis' face was a ghastly white. She flung a glance at the suddenly stiff Fujin. Gently, she said to the other girl, "He will be all right." Her voice was steady, although tight with strain, and her chin shook a little. "You go on. He'll want to see you. I'll help out here." 

Fujin jerked her head round and looked sharply at Quistis. The latter met her glance briefly before bending down and making herself very busy with helping to pass pails of water. The silver-haired girl frowned and then turned back to the fire. She did not move, but her face was very thoughtful, and she looked back now and then at the blonde SeeD instructor. 

A shout went up. Quistis froze for a moment, her heart beating wildly. Was he all right? Would he and Zell be all right? If her hands hadn't been occupied, she would have been wringing them. As it was, they were icy cold with terror and their grip on the pails was so tight and shaky that her knuckles went white and the pails swung hard against her legs. It was all she could do to keep hold of the pails. 

Then she heard wild cheers sweep through the crowd. 

"He's saved her!"

"Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah! They're out!"

"The girl is safe! Hark, look to the man, he's going to faint!"

Quistis stopped breathing and dropped the pails. Should she go to him? If she did, he might guess that she cared, and she couldn't afford that. The why of it wasn't important—she just couldn't afford it, that's all. Fujin was already heading towards the direction of the accolades Seifer was receiving—

"Quisty!"

She jumped and nearly fell over the pails. Selphie and Irvine had arrived, with a couple of SeeD candidates in tow and a first-aid kit. Selphie peered at her anxiously, exclaiming in horror.

"Quistis, you're as white as a ghost! Even your lips are practically colourless! What happened? Where are Zell and Seifer? Are they all right?"

Quistis opened her mouth, but Zell's enthusiastic shout interrupted then.

"Hey! Selphie! Irvine! So you guys got here! Guess what—Seifer here saved a girl from a burning house! Plunged right in without telling anyone and the house was burning as fierce as any Firaga spell, maybe even worse!"

Seifer, sooty-black, was supported on either side by Fujin and Zell, and followed by an delighted crowd of people, as well as several flashing cameral lights and news journalists, who were all waving microphones, tape recorders and pens at him. Nobody appeared to be paying attention to the arrival of the fire engine.

"Was it very hot inside?"

That, thought Seifer, through hazy, smoke-clouded thoughts, was an incredibly dumb question. He wanted to howl with derision at the clump-headed donkey who had asked that question, but instead, he began to cough and choke, the smoke having clogged his lungs. Still the questions flowed in a never-ending stream.

"Can you tell us anything about how the fire was started?"

"What's your name?"

This last was answered by a shout from the crowd.

"I knowed him, I seen him many times on TV, he's Seifer Almasy!"

The hubbub increased instantly, but Seifer's only thought was to hand that loud-mouthed idiot a few grammar lessons. 

"Are you really Seifer Almasy?"

"Is it true you're Ultimecia's Knight?"

"Are you really, really Seifer Almasy?"

The sound of a sharp, ear-piercing whistle shot through the air, and most people put their hands to their ears to shut out the sound, while a few dogs howled. Satisfied, Selphie took her fingers from her lips and clapped her hands to get attention.

"ALL RIGHT, EVERYONE," she hollered. Those nearest her kept their hands over their ears and started edging back slowly, except for Irvine, who had the benefit of experience, and had calmly made use of the earplugs he always carried handy about his person. "EVERYONE, OUR HERO NEEDS IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ATTENTION. DON'T PUT HIS LIFE IN DANGER. GIVE WAY! GIVE WAY! IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED, I WILL TAKE QUESTIONS ON HIS BEHALF. THIS WAY, PLEASE!" 

Quistis caught hold of Fujin as she passed with Zell and Seifer. "Tell Zell to record all expenses to my name under SeeD. Take care of him. Make sure he's okay. Contact me as soon as you can." She would much rather be with Seifer, but Selphie had appointed herself spokeswoman, and Quistis decided that it would be wiser to stay behind.

"AFFIRMATIVE." Then to Quistis' surprise, Fujin patted her comfortingly on the shoulder. "SEIFER'S FINE."

Quistis stared as the silver-haired girl moved away. Then Irvine plucked at her sleeve. "Er, Quisty, I think you'd better take over now. Selph's doing great, but we have to restrain her a _bit_. I think she's getting a mite over-enthusiastic."

Quistis ran. If _Irvine_ thought Selphie was getting too enthusiastic, there was trouble brewing.


	12. In The Middle Of The Night

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

Very long chapter. 

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 12: In The Middle Of The Night

Quistis scrunched up her eyes as she splashed more water on her face. She was having an early night for once and was grateful for the extra rest she was going to get. The day had been long, hectic and depressing, and she wanted to escape to the land of dreams quickly. Seifer had strained his injured rib badly in the rescue, and while he had been fêted all over the news stations and was enjoying the glory part of it, Quistis had been getting earfuls from quite a number of people. Her mind checked them off one by one.

First was a disapproving headmaster. Cid had spouted a good deal of rhetoric, especially about the impromptu press conference, and about drawing attention to Garden, etc. 

Then an anxious Matron, still frail and fragile after so many months, rang about once every hour to enquire about Seifer. Matron was a considerate, kind-hearted woman, and she was not harsh on Quistis, but her obvious anxiety made    Quistis' burden much heavier.

Then an annoyed Dr. Kadowaki had put in her oar.

On top of all that, Seifer's behaviour when she had gone to visit him in the infirmary that morning, had been less than gracious. He probably hadn't forgiven her for shipping him off to the showers so unceremoniously. Well, it wasn't as if she had stripped him naked, or ostentatiously paraded him through the halls, or poked into his personal belongings to find him some clothing. She was just tired of his wilful disobedience and she had wanted to show him that he couldn't play around with her. A couple of well-chosen spells, some exertion of force on her part, and he was in a shower stall, where he belonged. 

She wondered vaguely if it had all been a dream. Sometimes it felt as if she had been walking in one long dream since the night she had found Seifer. On the surface, life went on, but things happened from time to time, that made her feel that it was all part of some strange dream. For one thing, Seifer was being largely nice. He was prickly, of course—his nature had always been somewhat arrogant and hard-headed—no amount of amnesia could rid him of it. But he was much easier to deal with, even if flashes of the old, pre-Ultimecia Seifer surfaced now and then, such as the refusal to take a shower. He and Zell were even more or less on conversing terms after the fire, i.e. they could now talk to each other for about two minutes without a 'chicken wuss' or other name popping up in the conversation. Somehow, both had found that it was quite a simple matter to twist their tongues into addressing each other as 'Dincht' and 'Almasy'. Quistis supposed that it had taken one unplanned, dangerous situation to make strange bedfellows out of two people who never got along. It was either that or they simply hadn't bothered to try to be civil to each other before.

Just as she had turned down the covers of the bed and was preparing to get in, the telephone rang. With a sigh, she answered it. "Quistis Trepe speaking. Oh—hello, Matron. Yes. Yes. Yes. Well, I could drive over tomorrow morning and bring you here. No, no trouble at all." She swallowed. "All right then. No, nothing's wrong," she said brightly, but bit her lip as she spoke, her fingers tightening on the telephone receiver. " 'Bye, Matron. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Quistis replaced the receiver and opened her eyes. She drew a long, deep breath and slowly unclenched her fists. Well, she would have to go and see him now, to tell him that Matron was coming. She wondered how he was going to react when he saw her—with the same scornful arrogance that was so insulting and dismissive, she supposed wearily, her shoulders slumping. Her lips curved into a half-bitter, half-resigned smile. She wasn't one to shirk responsibilities, however unpleasant they were. She squared her shoulders, pulled on a decent outfit, settled her glasses back on her nose, and marched out, heading straight for the infirmary.  Partway there, she met Xu and stopped to chat for a little while. Neither noticed the tall, handsome blond man in the white-grey trenchcoat who watched the beautiful blonde instructor closely for a long time before silently slipping away.

When Quistis finally reached the infirmary, Dr. Kadowaki informed her that Seifer Almasy had been discharged earlier, with strict instructions to rest and go back for daily check-ups.

"He's left?" echoed Quistis numbly. "Oh," she added rather dully. "Well, thanks, doctor. I'll go and look for him, then. He's probably in his room. How is he, by the way?"

"Fine," responded Dr. Kadowaki. "Aside from straining that rib again, nothing's much the matter with him." She looked carefully at Quistis. "He's turning back into the old Seifer Almasy."

Quistis gave a mirthless smile and flapped one hand limply. "I know. Arrogant, defiant, scornful, rebellious—there isn't much I don't know about him."

"Is he getting his memory back?" demanded Dr. Kadowaki sharply. "Because I see no reason for his sudden reversion of personality unless..."

Quistis stood still for a second, and it seemed to the doctor that it was as if all the light that was in this girl had been blotted out. Dr. Kadowaki blinked. She would have said something, but Quistis gave her a brief, tired smile and then, shoulders squared and head up, she left.

She couldn't find Seifer, though. He wasn't in his room—or wouldn't answer the knocks; he wasn't in the cafeteria either, and nobody had seen him there; he didn't appear to be in the Training Area, and she wasn't about to go to the Secret Area to hunt for him; the telephone in his room rang and rang and rang and rang and rang, seemingly _ad infinitum_. She wondered if he was with some pretty girl, and steadfastly ignored the sharp inner pangs that hurt her at the thought.

All in all, Quistis Trepe decided, bed was the best option. Even then, her sleep was not uninterrupted. She tossed and turned for a long time, upset by Seifer's behaviour, and uncomfortably uncertain whether it was the shower incident that had triggered him off, or the return of his old personality. Her mind ached. Seifer had amnesia, Seifer might be getting his memory back, Seifer still hadn't talked about wanting to join SeeD, she hadn't bullied Cid into it yet, Squall must suspect something since the gunblade test, but was keeping mum as usual…and at the back of her mind, something else nagged at her…she had forgotten something very important…   

The shrill, persistent screaming of the telephone next to her ear forced Quistis to wake partially. She realised that she had somehow managed to fall asleep. Automatically, she reached one hand out to grab the receiver. The rest of the 'phone followed, dangling off the small bedside table as she brought the receiver to her ear.

" 'istis 'epe," she mumbled sleepily, settling for a garbled version of her name.

"Quisty?" Irvine's voice sounded panicky. "Can you come here right away? Seifer's having a Hyne-awful nightmare and it's woken the whole corridor with his—well, he isn't screaming, exactly, but we're not happy with the noises he's making—"

"Be there in a second." Quistis slammed down the receiver and shot out from under her blankets. 

It was part of SeeD training to be fully awake at anytime, at any hour when called upon. She soaked a hanky quickly and gave her face a cursory wipe, partly to wake herself up, and partly out of habit. Then she struggled into a dressing gown, pulling it over her slip, and hastily left her room. Seifer Almasy was so much trouble that she sometimes wished she could just pop him into a giant urn, cap on a lid, and let him be. 

When she reached the guest room where he was staying (an empty SeeD room, really), she found Irvine waiting for her anxiously, plus several open doors and grumpy-looking SeeDs. They gaped when they saw her, and slackened jaws, drooling mouths and wide, dazed eyes were many, but Quistis ignored them. Her attention was focused on Seifer's room.

From behind the door came queer noises—it sounded like someone choking, someone in pain, someone crying but not quite, someone caught in a hell not of his own making, but from which he could never escape…

Quistis fumbled in her pocket.

"Stupid sorceress' lapdog," a SeeD grumbled. "Waking us up with his nightmares. I'm not gonna let him forget it—"

Quistis whirled around, her hair flying around her, her eyes burning like blowtorches as they fastened on the SeeD who had made those remarks. He gulped as she took a step towards him. The silence was both deafening and ominous, broken only by the sounds of Seifer's tortured gasps and cries.

Quistis swept her blazing eyes across the face of every SeeD there, and some ducked their heads. "If any word of this is breathed from now on, I will personally hunt down the tattletale." Her very voice frosted the air and made icicles out of it. She paused and added with cold emphasis, "The cafeteria ladies are always happy to have someone help them scrub the whole cafeteria down. All of it. With a toothbrush if necessary."

Faces blanched. Instructor or SeeD, Quistis Trepe never made an idle threat. Doors began to shut quietly as SeeDs darted back into their rooms. 

Quistis turned back to the door and saw Irvine staring at her.

"What?" she asked in a low voice, nettled.

Irvine opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. His voice came out as a squeak. "Your glasses…"

"Came without them," responded Quistis with a shrug. She unlocked the door.

"Your hair…" mumbled Irvine.

"I know it looks like a haystack, but that can't be helped. Come on, Irvine."

Irvine shrugged and followed her. What he had really meant to tell her was that he thought she should wear her hair down more often and switch to contacts—she looked amazingly beautiful like that… 

Quistis' heart wrenched when she saw Seifer. He had his arms flung out, half off the bed, and his blankets were twisted around him. His face was damp with perspiration, and so was his bare torso. He was mumbling and muttering, interspersed with the strange, choked noises he was making. She leaned close to hear him, but she could not make out what he was really saying. 

"_Damn you, witch! Witch! Witch!"_

The sudden shrieks from Seifer caused Quistis and Irvine to stumble back in shock. Was he awake? But the blond man had turned over in his bed again, and his fists were tightly clenched, his neck craning upwards painfully. They could see the tightly corded muscles in his neck as he thrashed about on the bed, striking out wildly, but somehow, never falling off it. On the floor lay Hyperion, forgotten.   

"Get me a towel," Quistis whispered to Irvine. "Quickly! He'll catch a cold if he continues like that in the air-conditioning."

Irvine stammered agreement, but he did not move. Instead, he watched Quistis.

Quistis moved slowly towards the bed, never taking her eyes off Seifer. She nimbly avoided a flailing arm, sidestepped a leg, and then bent carefully over Seifer. In one lightning move, she had each of his arms pinned to his side. Seifer gave one convulsive jerk, and then seemed to relax almost immediately. His limbs halted their wild struggle, and his harsh, pain-filled breaths slowed. He still panted as he breathed, but the breaths sounded easier and less strained. Quistis then released one of his arms. It moved a little, and then stopped. The fingers had uncurled.

Quistis then let out the breath she had been holding and stood still for a moment, simply holding Seifer's other hand. Finally, she let it go, and turned to Irvine. "Towel?" she whispered.

He was about to apologise, but then Seifer began to struggle wildly on the bed again, and Quistis spun around, and once again laid her hand in his. Immediately, he quietened down. Irvine could hardly believe his eyes, but then he remembered something. A long time ago, back when they were children together, Seifer had had a terrible nightmare. Irvine, Zell, Squall and the other little boys in the same dormitory had been woken by his cries, but nobody could wake him or pacify him. So Irvine had run to fetch Sis while Squall looked after Seifer. But Sis was asleep, and it was a wide-awake little Quistis who had put her finger to her lips to stop Irvine from waking Sis, and had herself gone to see what she could do for Seifer.

And Irvine was reminded of that night, over fifteen years ago, when little Quistis knelt by a small Seifer's side and calmed him by a mere touch. Now, a grown-up Quistis was doing the same for a much older Seifer.

"Irvine!"

Irvine started. "Huh? Oh. Oh, yah. Towel. Will do." He made for the nearest towel he saw, the one hanging over the back of the chair at the desk.

"Not that!" hissed Quistis. "It doesn't look clean!"

Irvine ignored her and lifted the towel from its resting place, feeling it. "Feels fine to me. A little bit damp, maybe, but—"

"Irvine Kinneas, there is no way I will touch that towel." Quistis looked at him. "Do you have a towel you can lend Seifer? I'll launder it afterwards, I promise."

Irvine recklessly pulled open a drawer in spite of Quistis' sharp intake of breath. He produced a towel with a look of triumph and handed it to Quistis. "Ta-dah!"

Quistis decided to skip the lecture about not poking into other people's belongings. "All right. Thanks."

Irvine watched as Quistis gently wiped Seifer's damp body and smoothed the blond man's hair away from his sweaty forehead tenderly, then patted the towel all around his face. She then switched her attentions to his arms and torso before she carefully tucked the blankets in around him. Not once did Seifer cry out, and he was breathing regularly now, a peaceful expression on his handsome face. A new idea entered Irvine's head then, as he remembered what Selphie had told him. _Hyne__, Selph is so right. Quisty cares a helluva lot about Almasy. _

 He coughed slightly and Quistis turned to face him. "Are you going to stay here all night?" he asked in a low whisper.

Quistis' face suddenly looked weary as she contemplated the long night ahead. "I suppose so." She gestured towards Seifer and spoke in the same low whisper Irvine had used. "I'll stay here as long as it takes. I don't want him to suffer anymore, and I don't want the others to be disturbed. We all need our rest."

Irvine nodded, accepting it. "You did this before, a long time ago," he said.

Quistis thought for a moment and her eyes brightened briefly. "Back when we were at the orphanage. Yes…" She smiled at Irvine. "Thanks, Irvine."

He tipped his hat. "Anytime. Hey, I'll move the armchair for you next to his bed. I'll stay here too, you know, so…" He waved a hand vaguely.

"So people won't get ideas?" Quistis smiled again. "Yes, that's a good idea…but Irvine, you take the armchair. Do you have a footstool or something I can sit on, so I can rest my head level with the bed instead?"

When the moon peeped in through the windows fifteen minutes later, she saw a curious sight in a certain SeeD accommodation in a certain Garden. A young, handsome blond man occupied the only bed in the room. A beautiful, golden-haired young woman sat by his bed, her cream-coloured dressing gown trailing on the floor, and her hand in his. The third occupant of the room was a person whose eyes were partially hidden by the cowboy hat that had fallen over his forehead, and he was fast asleep, sprawled in the only armchair in the room.      


	13. Daybreak

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

. My paragraphs have a habit of being long. My last chapter was also too long—but I didn't cut it. Should have, I suppose. Sigh. Never mind, never mind. Thanks so much for the reviews! My ego is very, very happy—and so is my author's pride in my work. I was so surprised that there were good reviews for part 12.  I thought it wasn't one of my best.

drummerbabe13027: The shower scene isn't really a shower scene. It was at the end of part 8, when Seifer didn't want to take a shower, just to get on everyone's nerves, and Quistis shipped him there. 

Oh, and I read somewhere that Quistis is pronounced 'Kiss-tis'. As for Seiftis-y stuff, there's always Seiftis-y stuff in my chapters. They're hints, subtle little exchanges, and insights into our beloved pair's thoughts. Go on—suffer with Seifer and Quistis until the glorious end.  *runs off laughing*

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 13: Daybreak

Seifer Almasy woke with a start. He blinked at the ceiling above him, feeling an unaccustomed sense of peace and ease filter through his very bones. It was as if he had travelled a long, long road, but had hardly any rest until now. As he lay there, feeling absurdly relaxed and unwilling to stir, something else filtered through his consciousness. He was holding someone's hand. Startled, he lifted himself up, resting on his elbows, and found himself confronted with a completely unexpected scene. 

Quistis Trepe was fast asleep by his bed, her head pillowed on one arm in what looked like a remarkably uncomfortable position. Her hair, a deep shade of gold that appeared tinted with red in some lights, trailed off his bed, spilling across her shoulders and down her back like golden silk. Her face was beautifully pale in the morning light, and her long lashes rested against soft, flawless skin.  The most amazing thing was that _her fingers were entwined with __his, resting firmly in his grasp.  _

Seifer swallowed, flushing scarlet. What was she doing here? Oh, Hyne and all other deities, she was absolutely breathtaking. She was more than gorgeous. Without her glasses, with her hair down, she was…she was…Seifer swallowed again. He didn't dare to move. He knew that he was staring at a combination that promised both heaven and sin.

Quistis. He had a secret little pet name for her—Quis. Just Quis alone. It was a name that sounded like 'kiss'. Everyone else called her Quisty, or Instructor, or Instructor Trepe. He wanted a special name for her, a name all his own, that only he could speak. He called her Instructor out of habit, but even he was aware that when he said it, it was infused with a certain undercurrent of tenderness. 'Instructor' sounded different when others said it. And if he ever found anyone calling her 'Quis', he would personally attend to that person.

It was difficult to know how to behave around her, especially because half the time he wanted to gaze at her unceasingly, and the other half he wanted to spend with his arms around her. He knew he was a voyeur of sorts—he'd catch himself freezing to a spot where she couldn't see him and then stare at her to his heart's content. He even found himself making up excuses so he could go and watch her. It was crazy, but he couldn't help it. He had fantasies of holding her hand and watching her as she smiled up at him with a look in her eyes that could only be called love. He also had other fantasies…of a more…_vivid nature, so to speak. _

It frightened him a little. He had been so sure, just days before, that she was very much attracted to him. But the glow of certainty had faded later—after all, perhaps he had just imagined her reaction. But she was free, and he had every right to win her over if he chose to do so and not run away like some pansy. Seifer grimaced. He had certainly behaved like a pansy yesterday morning. He hadn't expected to see Quistis—although he had been dreaming of seeing her walk through the door and look at him with melting eyes—he just hadn't been prepared when she _did walk in, and it put him off so badly that he had behaved abominably. Quistis had ended up paying more attention to Zell, who was undergoing an examination by Dr. Kadowaki in the bed next to his, and Seifer had sulked in agonies of jealousy for the whole day.  _

Suddenly, those long lashes he had been looking at lifted, and sleepy blue eyes met his. One instant, one moment, one second in a lazy morning—and Seifer's cheeks burned as he found himself caught in wide pools of soft blue. In desperation, scrambling for some form of control over himself, he spoke roughly. 

"What are _you_ doing here?" 

He regretted his tone immediately as she snatched her hand from his, looking away.

"You had a bad night," she said quietly, her usual reserve rescuing her. "How are you feeling now?" Her voice was impersonal, like Dr. Kadowaki's, and she still refused to look at him.

_Bad night.___

Seifer went cold all over.

_High, shrill, mad laughter.___

_A woman, with the face of the only mother he had ever known, and the face was twisted with cruelty, marked with power._

_"Seifer Almasy…my  Knight…"_

_Numbness washing over him.___

_"You'll always protect me, won't you? I know I can count on you, my Knight…"_

_Cold hands and long fingers run over his face, over his head, through his hair. "My Knight…"_

_Again the laughter, splitting his skull, but he is on one knee, surrendering without a fight. Until…until something that has been struggling within him breaks free, screaming, and for a moment, the memories that spill over drive him to his knees, both knees, and then to his feet, as the truth spills from his lips and he draws his gunblade._

_"You're not Matron."_

_He is breathing heavily now, his eyes opened. He'll not move against the world. He'll not move against Balamb. He'll not move against it, while there's still breath in his body…this is not the mother who loved him. This is a witch, a witch with her face but not her heart .Witch. Witch. He struggles, but he cannot move. He cannot move._

_"They don't know who you really are, my Knight. Show them that they can't toss you aside. They wronged you and dashed your dream. With me, this is your dream. You are the one person I can count on. I am helpless without you, my Knight. Show them. Show them. They think you are not good enough for them…"_

_ They had not seen fit to let him join their ranks. They had not helped him fulfil his dream—_

_Lies! screams a part of his brain that had suddenly awoken. All wrong! A dream, he suddenly realises, remembering what a certain blonde instructor had once said, is not worth the lies and blood that have to be shed to gain it, or it is but a false dream that has not been truly earned, and dreams must be earned—_

_He chokes and gasps for breath as strange sensations overtake him and stream through his body. He feels like someone has chained his neck, arms and legs to—to what? Empty air? Lightning tears fiercely through him, ripping through every vein, every artery, every cell, and he arches back, almost breaking his back, and cries out, not for pain—Seifer Almasy never cries for pain—but in anger and the sense of futility that is rising in him—_

_"Damn you, witch! Witch! Witch!"_

A cold shudder ran through Seifer.

"Seifer?" Quistis' eyes were concerned as she touched him gently on the arm; she had forgotten about his rough treatment of her.

"I'm all right," he muttered. "Leave me alone." His fists curled around the blankets as he shrank away from her. 

Quistis flushed, feeling mortified. She didn't know what to say. All she knew was that she could not disturb him. "It's almost half-past seven," she said in a low voice, her voice shaking slightly. "I'll leave you now. Matron is coming to see you later this morning, after breakfast. I'll be driving her here." 

He made no response and she left quietly.

Approximately two seconds later, a familiar drawl issued from a corner:

"That was uncalled for, Almasy. You were mighty rude to Quisty, and you owe her an apology and your thanks."

The armchair in the corner shook a little as a long, lean figure uncurled itself from it.

"Well now," observed Irvine, "you've made Quisty so upset that she forgot about me." He frowned at Seifer. "You were screamin' your head off last night—I figure you were dreaming about Ultimecia. It took Quistis to calm you down and stop you from getting tortured in your sleep, and all you can do is shout at her first thing when you wake up."  

Seifer did not answer. He was staring blankly at nothing in particular and Irvine grew puzzled.

"Almasy?" 

Seifer looked up abruptly. "I'm all right—hey, how did you—" He stared at Irvine in complete astonishment. "I thought—"

Irvine shook his head. "You're really out of it, aren't you? It's a good thing Matron's coming today. Quisty left a couple of minutes ago. Get up, Almasy. Breakfast is waiting, and so is Quisty, so hurry up." 


	14. A Study Of Perfection

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

Okay, I'm a mite cross. The second part of my new story, An Angsty Seiftis, just disappeared. I've uploaded it, and it says I've two chapters uploaded and I've even got a review for the second chapter, but _where is it?! _

And you know something? There are so many characters in FFVIII that I can't put all of them in if I want to. Nida isn't here, I've barely mentioned Xu (just _once), and I still have to figure out about Zell's library girl, the one who has such an obvious crush on him, and whose name __nobody seems to know._

By the way, I adore tofu. Beancurd. Doufu in Chinese. Oh, and I love soya bean milk. It's great—my beverage of choice! =) Happy reading!

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 14: A Study Of Perfection

Quistis stood in her room, looking around with a frown on her face and a puzzled air. She appeared to have forgotten something very important, but she couldn't recall what it was. She walked quickly to the full-length mirror and eyed herself dubiously. Her hair was in order, her face was clean, her glasses were on, her clothes were perfectly pressed, and she looked neat and prim. Hence, the error did not lie with her appearance. With the frown somewhat deeper now, she circled her room, thinking back over the events. She glanced at the clock. It said eight-oh-six. She could defer breakfast until eight-fifteen. 

Quistis paced her room, tracing back her memory of the past few days. Seifer's nightmares…the infirmary…the press conference…the fire…dinner at Ma Dincht's…Fujin's visit…that was it!

Quistis dived under her bed, looking frantically for the little black disk Fujin had left behind. They had all forgotten about it. It wasn't under her bed, though. Perhaps it was under her desk. Quistis scrabbled about in an undignified fashion, searching for the disk until she discovered it on the bedside table, half-hidden by the telephone. Fujin had probably chucked it there without thinking. She picked it up and looked at it, thinking. She could always breakfast at eight-thirty and still make it to the orphanage by quarter past nine.

Quistis booted up her laptop and then inserted the disk into the requisite drive. She tapped a few keys and waited. 

"Six files," she murmured. "What's this? 'Trigonometry Made Easy'? 'Tofu Salad'? 'Myths and Legends'? 'Save The Environment Campaign'? 'Madam, I'm Adam'?" Her face twisted with disgust as she caught sight of the last file. "Ugh. Pornography." It had the usual title of all the pornographic e-mail she frequently received in her public, non-Garden e-mail account.

She grimly clicked on one of the files. 'Tofu Salad' looked quite safe.

THIS FILE IS PASSWORD PROTECTED. PLEASE ENTER A PASSWORD WITHIN THIRTY SECONDS OR YOUR DRIVE WILL BE CORRUPTED

Quistis stared at it in horror. Frantically, she typed in the first thing that came to mind.

REFIES YSAMLA

PASSWORD ACCEPTED

Quistis blinked. That was unexpected. In most films, the hero had two minutes to type in a password and he always failed until the dying seconds. She had expected something like that, but here she was, striking lottery on her first attempt! All right—perhaps luck was on her side. She crossed her fingers and narrowed her eyes as she studied what was written before her. The file was called 'Tofu Salad', but it didn't look like a recipe for salad. It had a list of places. Quistis frowned. Balamb—Ambar Di Fashions. Esthar—Incheyon Traders Pte. Ltd. Fisherman's Horizon—Fisherman's Wharf. Galbadia—Garden Software Co. Pte. Ltd. Timber—The Owlery. Trabia—Wetternfield Construction Co. Pte. Ltd. 

This was getting stranger by the minute. The only restaurant on the list was Fisherman's Wharf, and it didn't serve tofu salad. It was a seafood restaurant, not a health bar. The list seemed ridiculously incongruous for something headed 'Tofu Salad'. A seafood restaurant, a local clothes design company, a software company, a construction firm, a trading firm, and a museum to resistance fighters?

Quistis continued staring at the list. 

YOU HAVE EXCEEDED TIME LIMIT ALLOWED FOR VIEWING. PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD WITHIN THIRTY SECONDS OR YOUR DRIVE WILL BE CORRUPTED

Quistis hurried typed in REFIES YSAMLA.

PASSWORD INCORRECT

Quistis groaned. SORCERESS' KNIGHT

PASSWORD INCORRECT

Quistis grew panicky. On a hunch, she typed LLAUQS TRAHNOEL.

PASSWORD ACCEPTED

Quistis slumped down in her chair in relief, letting out the breath she had been holding. Whoever had secured this file had an extremely wacko sense of humour. If she didn't know better, she could have sworn that she had done the security herself. It was one of those things she _would_ do—use them both as corresponding passwords. She _had actually done so for one of her files. She took up pen and paper, and began to write down the names in the file, her hands still shaking from the panic attack just moments before._

The sharp rap-rap-rap on her door caused her to dig her pen into the pad of paper by mistake.

"Who's there?" She shot a lightning glance at the screen, memorising the last name on the list before she closed the file. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Instructor."

Seifer.

Quistis felt her cheeks grow hot. "Oh. What is it?" she called back cautiously.

"Breakfast." He cleared his throat, sounding slightly embarrassed, even through the door. "Are you going to come out or do you still want to yell our conversation out for the whole Garden to hear?"

Okay. That was the real Seifer. He wouldn't apologise for his behaviour, at least not verbally, but his coming to her room to, well, escort her down to breakfast was his way of apologising—or else he just wanted to irritate her more.

"Give me two minutes," she called.  "I need to finish up something."

She shut down her laptop and quickly slid the little disk into the inner pocket of the short jacket she was wearing. Then she opened the door and walked out. She glanced quickly at Seifer, who was leaning against the wall outside, looking bored and sexy at the same time. He smouldered suggestive promises from head to toe, just from the way he looked, and it was bad-boy all the way—the exact opposite of Squall, whose sex appeal lay in the fact that he was untouchable, and everyone wants the smouldering untouchable as well as the smouldering bad, bad boy. Quistis delivered several automatic slaps to her brain for thinking with hormones and tilted her head in an almost challenging fashion at Seifer. It was an unconscious response to the six foot three of tempting male gorgeousness that she couldn't have.  

Seifer did not smile, but he did follow behind her, and he watched her move with the same cool confidence and authority he always remembered. It was a confidence and authority born of her certainty of her intelligence, her height and stature, and her looks. She could move the way nobody could, with a remarkable elegance and dignity. But for Seifer, the crowning part was the fact that she was flawed.

That made her human and not arrogant, and made all that confidence, elegance and intelligence worth admiring. She was emotionally insecure. She craved the good opinion of others, wanted to help other people too much, and ultimately pushed herself too far at times. It drove her to take on what others would not, out of some misplaced sense of honour and responsibility—misplaced in an age like this. It drove her to take on him, despite everything, and Seifer knew it. Matron, Cid, whatever—it could not avail to anything if Quistis' own nature hadn't led her to believe that she had to do something about him. Oh, and she had a temper. She wasn't all mercy and goodness and sweetness and light. He should know—he had riled her as often as he could.

To Seifer, that was what made her perfect. He wouldn't have believed that her confident, goody-two-shoes image really _was her, unless she had some flaw. If it was that perfect, it couldn't be real, and she was one big fat lying package. There was nothing Seifer Almasy hated more than a false image. But she wasn't perfect and she __was real, and he was coming very, very close to worshipping the ground she walked on—_

"Would you hurry up?"

The real, imperfect blonde goddess in front of him had turned around and was tapping one booted foot impatiently, her arms folded. She was glaring at him. "Oi."

Seifer arched an eyebrow. "Oi?" he asked, his grin surprisingly warm and boyishness.

Quistis blushed. "Oi," she grumbled, turning her back, but Seifer caught sight of the little smile that edged her lips, and he felt himself soften even further.

He hurried to catch up with his flawed, perfect Quis. 


	15. Breakfast At Balamb's

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

Okay. Be warned. There is subtle sexual humour here. Subtle. Do _not ask your parents about it, especially if you're below sixteen. They will be—well, they won't be pleased—and then I should get awfully angry e-mails from your parents. _

Oh, and I'm very tired of Rinoa-bashing. She's not a slut. She's not a bitch—and if she is, it wouldn't matter, because there's one in every woman. If there isn't, that woman would get walked all over by others. And she flirts like many people do—knowing she's pretty, she uses it to her full advantage, and that's a smart woman. You'd be surprised how much a woman can get out of a man by fluttering her lashes. Besides, she'd be mighty silly if she didn't know she was pretty. 

Title: In Whose Name?

Part 15: Breakfast At Balamb's

"You're late," scolded Selphie.

"Sorry," apologised Irvine, looking penitent. "I spent the night in Seifer's room," he added nonchalantly as he sat down.

The silence at the table was…profound.

Irvine kept his face straight as he spread marmalade on toast. "Quisty was there too." He bit into the toast and chewed with slow deliberation, enjoying his friends' reactions.

Rinoa and Selphie were suffused with blushes. Even Squall's cheeks were tinted red. Zell…well, Zell's complexion could be best described as green.

"Kinneas," said Zell in a strangled voice, "I hope you're not saying what I think you're saying." 

"Ménage á trois?" suggested Irvine, happily taking a swig from a frozen Squall's coffee cup.

Squall choked. Rinoa turned purple. Zell, whose face was already a sickly shade, became an even less prepossessing shade of mottled green.

Selphie's face was a study in complete shock and disbelief. "You're bi?" she blurted out. "But you didn't tell me—" she floundered, looking almost miserable. "Irvine? I don't understand…"

Irvine did his best not to look at Selphie's wounded expression and instead helped himself to the scrambled eggs on his plate. "Whew, still warm," he commented matter-of-factly. "Does it make a difference, Sefie? I still love you very, very much, y'know," he said seriously.  Then, unable to help himself any longer, he guffawed, dropping his knife and fork.

"What's so funny?" cried Selphie in bewilderment, close to tears.

Irvine was still roaring with laughter. "Your faces—oh, get your minds out of the gutter! Seifer had a terrible nightmare about Ultimecia, I think, and was screaming his head off. Quistis couldn't wake him up, but so long as she was touching him, he was quite peaceful. So we stayed there last night," he concluded, between wild bursts of laughter. "If Quistis hadn't stayed, we wouldn't have had enough sleep. Of course I had to stay too—don't want any rumours about them, do we?" He grinned round. 

Across the table from him, Squall blinked. "You didn't call me last night." His voice was emotionless, but there was an undercurrent of _something_ in it.

Irvine looked curiously at him. "I'm sorry, Squall," he said, genuinely apologetic. He had forgotten that Seifer were best friends/enemies/whatever years ago. "It slipped my mind. Quisty seemed to be on top of things—handling it pretty well, I mean—"

Rinoa Heartlilly picked at her food, lost in thought.

What price Seifer? She was still a little bit afraid of him—it was something that would take her a long time to get rid of, especially since he had presented her on a silver platter to the Sorceress whose power he had been in.

She had known him only briefly and they had dated. If dating exclusively for two weeks meant being his girlfriend—then yes, they had been a couple. But not officially. There was no promise made and no statements made to suggest any such arrangement. She had been very much attracted to him. She and Seifer had something in common when they met. It had been their respective good looks that had drawn them to each other at first, but later, when they talked, their own beliefs drew them together. 

He had dreams—romantic dreams, he said, but he did not tell her what they were. She remembered the light in his face when he spoke of it. It was a secret ambition he held in the very core of his heart and it would take more than a brief acquaintance to wrench it from him. For herself, she too had dreams, and he was really the first person she had ever confided to, about those dreams. No one else would have understood and she had thought he might. She had wanted to be strong and independent, and break away from her soft living lifestyle. Besides, like him, she too had ideals, and she wanted to do something about them.

They had parted on those grounds, each going their way to achieve their dreams. Although they had agreed to keep in contact, they never did.

Then she had met Squall. Squall was different. With Squall, she felt safe and protected. And she trusted him. Therein lay the vast difference between the two. In Seifer, she saw only memories of danger and death. Even when they had dated, that aura of danger and excitement still hung about him, and it was difficult to know what he would do next, or if you could trust him, really trust him. She knew that he had been in Edea's power, and then Adel's, and Ultimecia's, but it didn't erase her pain or her terror. He had a fire she could not tame. Rinoa Heartlilly had known one thing from the moment she set eyes on Seifer Almasy years ago—he had an unquenchable fire in him, that needed to be tamed, or else it would destroy him, and possibly everything around him.

"Yo, Almasy! Over here!"

Rinoa hid her smile by putting her mug of coffee to her lips. It really was peculiar the way Zell was looking at Seifer now. From zero to hero, Rinoa thought, amused. Seifer was also treating Zell a lot more decently. She remembered sitting through her visit to the infirmary just yesterday morning, struck speechless to hear Zell and Seifer address each other as 'Dincht' and 'Almasy' in almost _comradely tones. It was as if the sun had decided to rise in the north. Really, she could almost believe in anything now._

"I cannot believe this," proclaimed Selphie with an enormous grin. "Zell and Seifer are on speaking terms!"

"Yes, marks a great change from the swearing terms they were on," agreed Irvine. "Stay away from that hot dog, Zell, it's mine."

_Well, thought Rinoa, __that was certainly fast. Selphie seems to have forgiven __Irvine__ for that terrible time he just gave her. Oh, wait—she wasn't wearing that bracelet when she came down to breakfast—ah, there's the gift box. __Irvine__ must have had it with him. A peace offering, I guess. He's lucky Selphie has such a sweet temper. He's also lucky he had that present with him! I wonder where he bought it? It's beautiful. Oh, here's Quisty._

Rinoa nodded and smiled a warm greeting to Quistis as the blonde took a seat near her.

"Why so late this morning, Quisty?" asked Selphie. "Oh, wait—how are you, Seifer? Irvine told us about your nightmares. Are you feeling better?"

Quistis turned her eyes on to Irvine, who promptly choked on his food.

"Oh, no, no, no," he mumbled. "I forgot. Please don't. I don't want to scrub the cafeteria with a toothbrush." He offered Quistis a charming smile. "Forgive me, please?"

"No," said Seifer, folding his arms. "This I have to see—Kinneas scrubbing the cafeteria floor with a toothbrush."

"With a cowboy hat on," added Zell.

For some reason, both found it every funny, and roared with laughter together.

Irvine blinked several times. "Oh, Hyne." He sounded really scared. "This is too unreal. I think I saw Seifer Almasy and Zell Dincht _laughing. __Together." He put one hand over his eyes. "Quisty, I'm too sickened at the moment to scrub __anything with a toothbrush."_

Rinoa and Quistis exchanged grins.

"It _is bizarre," murmured Rinoa._

Quistis smiled. "It won't last. It never does. Count to five and see."

"Huh?" Rinoa was bemused.

Quistis held up one hand, five fingers outstretched. Five fingers…four fingers…three fingers…two fingers…one finger…zero fingers…

As if on cue, Seifer's voice rang out.

"Get your leg out of the way, chicken wuss. It's in my personal space."

"_You're the one in __my space, *******," retorted Zell._

Rinoa began to laugh.


	16. Memories

© Copyright 2002 Original storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. Not owned by Gold.

Right. Now this is important. From the next chapter onwards, this story hurtles towards its ending. Remember the clues from the previous chapters. From Part 2: Seifer nearly drowned before he was rescued. Part 3: Dr. Kadowaki suspects suicide and Seifer has some very strange injuries, not from drowning. Quistis remembers that Hyperion saved Seifer. How? Why? Part 7: Rinoa reminds Quistis that Quistis saved Seifer from drowning. Part 10: Fujin was attacked. A little black floppy disk makes its debut. Part 14: Those files…

Title: In Who's Name?

Part 16: Memories

Edea Kramer sat in the small, pretty sitting-room, one of Garden's more unusual places, her hands clenched in her lap as she waited quietly. She thought of the blonde girl who had driven her over, and pangs of guilt wrung her heart. Quistis had looked so tired and old, not at all like a girl who had barely reached twenty-one years of age. She had put too much on the girl's thin shoulders since the day she had begged Quistis to save Seifer from the executioner. _What have I done? I'm so sorry, Quistis, more sorry than you'll ever know. I wish there had been someone who could have helped you. You had to do everything by yourself._

The former sorceress looked fondly at Quistis, who was languishing in an armchair nearby, unsuccessfully trying to hide her yawns.

"Didn't you sleep well last night, Quistis?" asked Matron worriedly as she stretched across with some difficulty to lay her hand over the girl's. "You look exhausted. You haven't been staying up marking papers again, have you?"  

Quistis smiled and Matron was comforted by the smile. 

"No, I was just lying in a terribly uncomfortable position all night," Quistis said with a little laugh. "I didn't find out exactly how uncomfortable it could be until I woke up. I've even got a crick in my neck." She grimaced slightly.

Edea sighed deeply. "I'm sorry, Quistis," she said humbly.

"Whatever for?" asked Quistis, genuinely surprised.

Edea leaned back. "I've given you a burden too great," she said quietly. "It's too big even for you to handle and I made you handle it alone."

Quistis tilted her head thoughtfully. "Are you sorry you asked me to save Seifer?" she asked directly, fixing her clear eyes on Matron.

That one straightforward question brought home to Edea exactly _why she had relied on Quistis Trepe to save the wayward sheep of the orphanage flock. Squall, Seifer and Quistis were all comparable in terms of intelligence although each had his or her own advantage in certain areas. But amongst all of them, Quistis Trepe was the only one with the ability to read the emotions accurately, and to see the human consequences and possibilities of any action. In short, she saw the big picture in very human detail. Irvine had that ability, but he did not always have the level of intelligence to follow up on it. Alone amongst them all, from Ellone Loire to Selphie Tilmitt, Quistis Trepe combined an ability to analyse with unfailing accuracy, with an intelligence for brilliant planning and strategising in nearly every situation, human or military._

And as usual, Quistis had hit on the crux of the matter.

Edea Kramer surrendered to her clever child with a smile and a laugh. "No," she admitted. "No, I'm not sorry I asked you to save him…but I _am sorry that I gave you no choice in the matter."_

Quistis rested her chin in her hands. "_You didn't have a choice either, Matron," she pointed out thoughtfully. "You were on the verge of dying and you didn't have enough time."_

"You don't have to save him anymore, Quistis," said Edea quietly. "It's over. He's free. You're free."

_Am I? Not as long as Dr. Kadowaki's charge is on me. Quistis was saved from having to make a suitable reply when the door opened at that point, and Seifer Almasy entered._

He advanced towards them silently, a slightly haunted cast to his eyes. In his mind, the nightmare was still fresh, and he searched the face of the frail, wheelchair-bound woman for any sign of the Sorceress in his nightmare. She had the face, yes…the same beauty, the same shape and line of nose and jaw…Seifer paled…

And then Quistis brushed past him unintentionally on her way out.

Seifer blinked as the darkness of the previous night seemed to ebb away with that one brief touch. He looked at Matron again and realised that _this was Matron, much older than the youthful Sorceress of his nightmare, never mind the same face. And this face was beautiful, but it had kindness, warmth and experience, and the wrinkle or two he remembered from his last visit to her, on the day of the fire. And it didn't have those sickening markings on it. He relaxed._

"Matron," he greeted her, bending down to kiss the older woman on her cheek.

Edea smiled sadly. "Seifer." She had seen his sudden, unexplained fear, and she knew without being told that he had remembered. "You're looking well. What did Dr. Kadowaki say?"

Seifer shrugged and smirked a little. "Nothing that I remembered." He smiled disarmingly at her. "I'm all right, so don't worry too much about me. A couple of burns, bruises—nothing I can't handle."

Matron smiled affectionately at him, but her eyes were still worried. "How's the progress on your memory?"

The reaction was immediate and telling. Seifer's jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists. He said nothing for a long time and Matron did not dare to move.

"I—remember some things," he said finally, looking at the floor. "I dreamt of it last night. I—" He shuddered and Matron put out a hand to him, but he sheered back.

"I'm sorry," she murmured sadly, tears filling her eyes as she withdrew her hand slowly.

He shook his head slightly. "No. It wasn't you. I know that. I—" He lifted anguished, horror-struck eyes to her face. "I know what we went through." He swallowed.

Tears spilled quietly down Edea Kramer's face. "I know. I know…"

They sat in a long, pain-filled silence, linked by the harshest of bonds, lost in memories of a time they would give their lives to erase. Edea broke the silence first, laying her hand over Seifer's.

"How much do you remember? Everything?"

Seifer's laugh bit like caustic and his eyes glittered, bright with agony. "I remember everything in my life, up to the point where I was lost in Time Compression. I sacrificed Rinoa. I even remember fighting Quistis in the name of Ultimecia's Knight. And—and I tortured Squall…" His voice broke. "I…_tortured…"_

For the first time in his life, Seifer Almasy wept, bitter drops from a soul that was descending slowly but surely back into a dark quagmire from whence he had barely escaped with his life nearly two months before. 

!*!*!*!*

Gold: Dark quagmire. That's another clue. But be warned. _Nothing is as it seems. *flings her head back and laughs softly*_


	17. Detective Quistis

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII belongs to Squaresoft.

Title: In Who's Name?

Part 17: Detective Quistis 

Quistis Trepe stood in front of a small, whitewashed building in the city of Balamb, looking up at it.  A cloud moved over the sun and she blinked slightly. It was a harmless-looking area, with small businesses scattered here and there. She had already passed two grocers, a newsagent's and a hairdressing salon. The street was quiet, although not what one would call deserted, and the people were the rather unusual sort found in Balamb—reserved, law-abiding and pleasant. Quistis executed an enormous yawn. She was very tired and had a class in about an hour's time, but there was no one else who could help her. Rinoa was off somewhere and Fujin must have switched off her mobile phone, because all Quistis got in her attempts to contact the silver-haired girl were met by a polite electronic response: 'THE SYSTEM IS NOT RECEIVING A RESPONSE FROM THE SUBSCRIBER'S MOBILE PHONE. PLEASE TRY AGAIN LATER.' It was very difficult not to be frustrated and annoyed under the circumstances.  

Quistis mounted the narrow flight of stairs leading to the Ambar Di Fashions office, which, according to an online directory of places, was located on the third and highest floor of the building. Quistis would have preferred to make her enquiries by telephone, but the person who had answered the 'phone had barked, "Wrong number!" and hung up on her before she could say anything else.

There was something unusual about the whole floor, Quistis realised, glancing around when she had reached the uppermost floor. There were three doors, all equidistant from one another, each looking eerily similar and yet different. They were of the same size and design, although they were painted in different colours: white, cream and wood-brown. The metal plates on the doors were also similar, all shining brass, with tiny black lettering. Quistis scanned the three doors, adopting a puzzled expression in case she was suddenly spotted snooping around. Her bewilderment became very real as soon as she had read the names on the three brass metal plates.

Ambar Di Fashions.

Incheyon Traders Pte. Ltd (Balamb).

Garden Software Co. Pte. Ltd (Balamb).

How very peculiar—all three names had been present on the floppy disk! How very peculiar!

"Hey, who are you?" demanded a gruff voice from behind. "What are you doing here?"

Quistis spun around. Behind her stood a short, well-built man with a scowling expression on his tanned face. He was dressed neatly in a rather wrinkled short-sleeved yellow shirt and corduroys. Something about him did not fit—he had the clothing and style of a civilian, but his manner and air spoke like a trained soldier. 

Quistis held up a file. "I'm—I'm Chase Peter," she fibbed rapidly. "I'm a fashion designer. I'm looking for Armani Fashions."

"_Ambar Di Fashions," corrected the man, scowling still further. "You don't have an appointment. I never heard of any Chase Peter."_

"I thought…I just thought…I mean, I can just show my designs…do I have to have an appointment?" floundered Quistis, wide-eyed and bewildered-looking. She turned huge, pleading eyes on the short man.

"No, you can't just barge in," snapped the man. "Besides, we don't need anymore fashion designers. We already have four, and that's quite enough, thank you. Go and try some other company. Go on, now!"

"But—" began Quistis.

The man glared at her. "Look, go, okay? We don't need any more designers. The ones we have are quite fine. Go and try another firm!" He stalked past her, entered the door labelled 'Ambar Di Fashions', and slammed the door shut. There was an audible 'click', like the sound of a lock.    

Quistis pasted a hopeless expression on her face and turned to go, dragging her feet as she went. She allowed her shoulders to slump as she walked out of the building and did not drop her ditzy persona until she was safely at the Balamb train station, where she ducked quickly into a restroom and considered her choices.

It had been a pure stroke of luck that she had decided to go in civilian clothes rather than her usual battle gear outfit. Quistis frowned. Nevertheless, she could have been easily recognised. After all, her picture had been splashed all over the newspapers for years, thanks to the Ultimecia affair. Quistis took out her handy little pocket compact and studied her face in it. Well, what was done could not be undone. Something extremely fishy was going on, and what price the fact that the three offices all had names which appeared on the little floppy disk?

Quistis walked out of the restrooms. She stood near the train tracks and glanced around. It appeared that she was alone. She took out her mobile phone and dialled Xu's number.

"Xu? This is Quistis."

"I know. Hi."

"Uh, I know this is short notice, but I need help. I have a class in forty-five minutes but I won't be able to make it. Can you take over for me until about three?"

"Yes, but what are you doing?"  

"Just something," Quistis answered vaguely. 

Xu made an exasperated sound. "All right. I won't ask any questions, then. How soon will you be back?"

Quistis thought for a moment. "I don't know. I should be back before three. I'm going to FH to look for something."

"FH?" Xu sounded puzzled.

"Never mind. Thanks, Xu! I'll take over your classes for you next time round."

Next, Quistis left a message on Rinoa's answering machine back at the dark-haired girl's dorm.

'_Rin__, this is Quistis. Do you remember the floppy disk Fujin brought the other day? It's in my drawer, the first drawer of my desk in the staff room. Can you look through it? Beware, there are viruses.'_

_ Then she was off to the port, to catch the next boat to the peaceful little town of Fisherman's Horizon._


	18. Fisherman's Wharf

© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold (e-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII belongs to Squaresoft.

Title: In Who's Name?

Part 18: Fisherman's Wharf

Fisherman's Horizon was just as Quistis remembered. She got off the boat quietly and looked around. She had been here just twice before, and the last time had been about a year ago, on a brief stop to visit the Master Fisherman and to thank him for his help. She and the others had met with the mayor, but the Master Fisherman was nowhere to be seen, and he wasn't down at the dock either, although they had heard that he had returned to FH for a little while. Quistis smiled a little to herself as she strolled down the streets of Fisherman's Horizon. She glanced around, looking for the Fisherman's Wharf. Ages ago, when she had just become a SeeD, she had gone to Fisherman's Wharf for a little celebration dinner with some members of her batch. They were much older than she was, and she was just the kid SeeD, but most of them were very good to her, and being back there brought back faint memories of a time when she was still childishly naïve. 

Fisherman's Wharf was well-known for its clam chowder. Personally, Quistis found it a bit strong—too fishy. Still, she wasn't there to eat the clam chowder. She stood across the street, gazing thoughtfully at the restaurant. It looked decently respectable. Quistis frowned a little to herself, unsure of what she was looking for. She glanced around the street and her eyes widened. About three doors away from Fisherman's Wharf was a small building about three stories high. On the third floor, at the corner of one of the dark glass windows, were small letters—Wetternfield Construction Co. Pte. Ltd (FH). Well! _Now Quistis was certain that something was up. She narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment. Better beard the lion in his den and see what he comes up with. FH was a very peaceful place and if she needed help, she could always scream._

Quistis entered the Fisherman's Wharf. The shock she received nearly threw her off-balance for a moment. The strange part was that the place looked exactly the same as she had remembered it, but there was something that wasn't quite right about it, and whatever it was, it had given her a severe shock. She looked around, trying to gauge what it was that had stunned her.

Fisherman's Wharf was a very small restaurant. It had about twenty tables, and each table looked exactly the same—four well-carved wooden chairs, neat placemats atop each table, and a single, blue glass vase with a single stalk of lilies serving as a centrepiece for each table. The walls were practically papered with pictures of the Master Fisherman fishing, the mayor fishing, the grocer down the street fishing, the tailor up the street fishing…everyone in FH fished in their spare time. The floor was clean and polished wood, and bare—that made sense, since fish on carpets or rugs is not easy to get rid of!

"Good morning, miss. Table for one?"

Quistis glanced at the waitress. She was in her thirties, an unusual-looking woman with very dark eyes, very pale skin and very red hair. She would have been very pretty—Quistis supposed that she was considered very pretty—but her mouth was hard and had an unpleasant look about it. She did sound polite enough, though.

"Yes, thank you," Quistis told her. 

The woman, who did not wear a name tag, led her to a table right inside, at the far end, but Quistis stopped her.

"I would like a table there, please," she said calmly, pointing to another table.

The table the waitress had chosen was just too far inside and too dark. Quistis preferred one where she could see the entrance—and where people walking by could see her. An additional bonus was that she was nearer the other diners in the restaurant.   

"But this one is much better," protested the waitress, insistently taking Quistis by the arm. "This is our _best table."_

Quistis firmly removed her arm from the waitress. "Yes, but I like _that table better." So saying, she made her way to the table she liked. _

Quistis looked at the menu, her face placid, but her brain was whizzing quickly. She had located the strange thing about the place. The picture of the Master Fisherman. Master Fisherman would never have wanted his picture up on the wall like that. He was a quiet, reticent sort of person who disliked publicity of any sort. Quistis frowned. It was a very small picture, and would have been lost amongst the other pictures, but for the fact that Quistis herself knew who the Master Fisherman was, and her eyes had been drawn to the picture immediately. Did it mean something?

"Miss, would you like me to take your order now?"

Quistis glanced up at the waitress and thought quickly. "Oh, yes, thank you. I'll have the clam chowder and, uh, just iced water, thank you."

"Will that be all?"

"Yes." Quistis sat back in her chair.

She spent the ten minutes before her food arrived quietly observing the people in the restaurant. There were three service people altogether, two waiters and a waitress. The two waiters looked alike; they were probably brothers. Both were tall, well-built men who looked more like stiff butlers than mere waiters. One of them was very chummy with the waitress—they were probably a couple, Quistis thought. There were about six others in the restaurant—four people at one table and two people at another. Quistis had just enough time to note the way they looked like and to sum up private judgments on their possible characters and professions before the chowder arrived.

She tried it. It wasn't as fishy as she had feared and it did taste quite nice, although not the way she remembered it. After about three mouthfuls, she felt very strange. Her head appeared to be very heavy and the room…was spinning around…

Quistis Trepe's eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped over the table in a dead faint.


	19. A Few Steps Closer

© 2002 Original storyline by Gold (E-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer: The characters of FFVIII belong to Squaresoft. This storyline, though, is mine, and is a product of my skill, labour, effort and judgment. 

It took me a few hours to write this. It's been a long time since I wrote. Our heroes and heroines are now…a few steps closer to the truth.

Title: In Who's Name?

Part 19: A Few Steps Closer

**17:25:36**** hours, early evening, ****Balamb****Garden**** Time**

Xu stalked furiously into the cafeteria, searching it with anxious eyes. No Quistis. She glanced at her watch. It read five twenty-six. Xu's eyes narrowed further. Now she was truly worried. Where was Quistis? She hadn't answered her mobile phone, nor had she returned. That old man at the gate said he hadn't seen horse or hide of Quistis since she had left at about ten in the morning. She wasn't in her room and nobody knew where she might be. Xu had found herself saddled with an additional four hours of classes, covering Quistis' lessons. It wasn't like Quistis to break her word without even leaving a message. Xu wondered what Quistis had been doing at Fisherman's Horizon. Perhaps she was looking for something for Selphie's birthday.

A flash of blond hair, tanned skin and silver-gray trenchcoat caught her eye, and Xu grimaced. Seifer Almasy. That good-for-nothing arrogant creep. Xu could think of a hundred other epithets for him, none of them complimentary, and all very rude. She didn't see what Quistis saw in him. What she remembered was Quistis's frustration with him, back in the days when the younger girl had been his instructor.   Not a day had gone by without Seifer Almasy trying to force Quistis Trepe into early retirement. Hell, Seifer Almasy had retired quite a few instructors by himself, if he didn't already know. Xu snorted. Yet for reasons best known to Hyne, Quistis never gave up, and when she wasn't busy raging against Almasy, she was telling Xu that Seifer was one of the two most brilliant students Garden had ever accepted, and extolling on his brains and superb fighting skill. Trust Quistis to see what no one else even bothered to mention. Seifer Almasy could be the smartest man in the world, plus the best fighter, but so long as he was an arrogant, self-centred *BLEEP*, he would never amount to much in Xu's eyes. 

But as he walked past, Xu found herself opening her mouth.

"Almasy," she barked.

He stopped right by her side, without looking at her. He said nothing.

Xu gritted her teeth. It was very difficult to be civil to someone like him. She sincerely hoped that she was scoring points in the Big Book of Good Deeds up in the sky, or else all this would not be worthwhile! "Have you seen Quistis around?"

"No." He walked on.

Xu grabbed his arm before he was more than a metre away, and her eyes snapped. "Stop right there."

He snatched his arm away from her grip, and his strength startled her. He stared at her in an unfriendly fashion. "What?" he snarled.

"Quistis is missing," Xu said flatly. She stopped, frowning. Why had she said that to Seifer Almasy? Of all people, she was telling him her fears about Quistis? She should be going to the Headmaster, not this—this—

"Missing?" 

Xu stared. The man actually sounded…and looked…_worried. It was unnatural. "She said she'd be back by three o'clock. She isn't."_

Seifer frowned. "That's strange. She doesn't break her word like that."

"She doesn't miss classes either," added Xu.

Seifer's face took on a slightly panicked expression. "She _missed her classes?"_

"Yes." 

Seifer took a deep breath. "Quistis would never do that. She doesn't miss classes. She—she might be in some sort of trouble," he said quietly. "Do you know where she went?"

Xu flicked a strand of hair off her cheek. "The last I spoke to her, she said something about going to—"

_"Quistis Trepe and Seifer Almasy, please report to the Commander's office at once."_

**17:37:39**** hours, early evening, ****Balamb****Garden**** time**

Squall was behind his desk, which looked surprisingly tidy. He resembled a statue as usual, albeit one with flesh-coloured tones and that moved from time to time. Rinoa, who was already seated in one of the three chairs facing his desk, wore an extremely nervous and anxious expression, and she kept shooting uncomfortable glances at Squall. When the door to the Commander's office swung open and Seifer strode in, followed by Xu, Rinoa jumped a little, her eyes widening further as she looked at the two people who had entered.

"Where's Quistis?" she demanded hastily, looking from Seifer to Xu, as if one of them was responsible for hiding Quistis somewhere. "Where's Quistis? She's supposed to be here, isn't she?"

Seifer said nothing, but flushed a little. His ex-girlfriend hadn't changed. Sure, she was a little older, and more womanly, and there was an air of determination that was now well tempered by a maturity that he hadn't seen when they had parted all those years ago, but on the whole, she was very little different. He found himself suddenly caught between two things—the old feeling that reminded him that he had been very much attracted to this girl once, and the new feelings regarding a certain stunningly lovely blonde SeeD instructor, on whom he was rapidly developing more than a crush.   

Squall cleared his throat, and the sound cut thoughtlessly through Seifer's confusion. "Where's Quistis? Xu—I didn't call for you…"

Xu nodded. "I know, but I had to come. Quistis is missing. I haven't been able to locate her, and she said she would be back by three o' clock for her classes, but she hasn't returned, and she isn't answering her mobile phone either." She hesitated briefly. "She doesn't break her word, and she promised me she would be back by three, so that I wouldn't have to take over all of her classes for today."

"You took over her classes today?" asked Squall.

"I was supposed to help her with two classes," explained Xu. "But she didn't turn up, and I ended up with four classes. Not that I'm complaining, but I'm worried. She called me at about eleven o'clock or so, and asked me to take over her twelve o'clock classes. She said she was going to FH, but she didn't say why."

Seifer stirred and Squall looked at him.

"Do you know where she is?"

"No," answered Seifer shortly. "And no, I did not spirit her away somewhere."

Squall didn't deign to reply. Instead, he glanced at Rinoa. "Rinoa, does this have something to do with…?"

Rinoa got to her feet, very pale. "Y-yes. I—I think so." She took a deep breath. "I think you had all better sit down."

Squall resumed his seat and Xu eased her self into the chair furthest from Seifer, but Seifer himself remained standing.  He had a feeling that whatever Rinoa was about to say was going to require that he stand up. He wished he had Hyperion with him; cafeteria rules had demanded, though, that no weapons were allowed, although instructors frequently ignored that rule.

Rinoa fidgeted a little. "Okay," she began shakily, "don't say anything until I'm through, or you'll miss the important parts. I think I know why Quistis went to FH, and I think it has to do with why Seifer ended up here, at Garden, with amnesia." She held up a black floppy disk and turned her eyes on Seifer, looking more and more upset. "Quistis is going to kill me…" she mumbled.

"What do you mean—what have I got to do with that?" demanded Seifer, scowling. "And why will Quistis kill you?"

"Because I'm going to blab, with no regard for anyone," Rinoa informed him unhappily, a tragic look on her face. "You were almost drowned, remember? But Dr. Kadowaki said you had additional injuries, and one of them was a stab wound—"

"I thought I had a broken rib?" exclaimed Seifer.

"That, too." Rinoa wrung her hands. "Don't interrupt, please! The stab wound was self-inflicted, but it missed all your organs, and if Quisty hadn't saved you from the ocean, you'd have bled to death—"

"_Quisty saved me?"_

Rinoa glared at Seifer. "I said, don't interrupt! Yes, she saved you—didn't anybody tell you?"

"Someone seems to have missed out that vital bit of information, as well as forgetting to tell me that I tried to commit suicide!" snarled Seifer acidly. "Is there anything else I did that I don't know?"

Squall slammed one fist on the desk. "Stop bickering," he ordered sharply. "Rinoa, get to the point. Almasy, shut up. You can ask questions later."

Rinoa held up a disk and started talking very fast. "Quistis wanted to find out if you really did try to kill yourself, but of course you couldn't remember a thing, so she asked Fujin for help, and told me about it, and I promised not to tell anyone, not even you, Squall. Fujin couldn't find out anything, and she didn't notice anything, but she did find this among your belongings, I think—" Rinoa waved the disk—"and she brought it to us. Only Quistis got a look at it, because the day Fujin brought it was the day Ma Dincht's house got firebombed. I just took a look at it, and I broke the passwords to two of the files, and Seifer, it's what's on the disk that means they're after you. They want to kill you, and that's why Ma Dincht got firebombed. Quisty cracked one file that says something about a place at FH and I think she went there…"  Her voice trailed off helplessly as she looked at the Commander for support.

"Who wants to kill me and why?" Seifer advanced on Rinoa, eyes flashing. "If it's another of those I-want-to-kill-Ultimecia's-Knight—"

Rinoa swallowed. "It isn't. At least, I don't think so." She looked up at Seifer. "They want to kill you…because you know too much. You've got this disk. And now we can't reach either Fujin or Quisty."

There was a long pause.

"I don't know who they are, Seifer," Rinoa continued, "except that—" she stopped suddenly, turning pale again, looking as if she had just taken a sock to the stomach. "Oh, crap. Squall, is this office secure?"

He gave her a blank look that spoke volumes. _Hello, this is the Commander's office. Of course it's secure!!!_

Rinoa just shook her head. Quite calmly, her face took on a look of concentration and her eyes flashed once with a queer gleam in them, before her face went blank. Almost at once, her voice sounded in their heads.

_They are an Organisation. Who or what, I don't know. But they've infiltrated governments all over the world, with the sole purpose of quietly controlling every country from behind the scenes. It's something even more powerful than Ultimecia—power driven by money and pure greed. This disk has some devastating information on that, including some of the branches of the location of this Organisation. If you had it in your possession, Seifer, I think you know something about the Organisation and I think they tried to kill you. I believe that they've even infiltrated SeeD. Every Garden has been contaminated, maybe up to board level. And Balamb is on the list I found. I don't think this office is secure anymore, Squall…  _


	20. Cracked

© 2002 Original Storyline by Gold (E-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com) 

Disclaimer: The characters and places belong to Squaresoft, which created Final Fantasy VIII. This storyline, however, belongs to me.

Hi. Thanks for the reviews. I'm in a mighty rush, because I have homework. Uhhhh…Angsty Dish is on hold until I finish my assignments. I'm on a In Who's Name roll at the moment, hence the sudden proliferation of chapters. Happy reading, everyone!

Title: In Who's Name?

Part 20: Cracked

Zell Dincht wore an expression of extreme concentration as he hacked into the three files that remained unopened on a little black floppy disk, mindlessly demolishing a plate of hotdogs and pigs-in-blankets as he worked.  Around him, mayhem ruled as Selphie, Xu, Irvine, Rinoa and Seifer methodically eliminated monster after monster that poked its nose near them. It was a peculiar arrangement: Zell sitting in the centre of a circle of people, with a laptop perched precariously atop a boulder, and said circle of people skirmishing with a wide variety of creatures while Zell tapped away at the laptop, apparently completely ignorant of the sounds of battle going on around him. 

"Why," grumbled Selphie as she dispatched neatly of a Grat, "do we have to use the Training Centre?"

Irvine trained his sights on a shaking bush. "It's the only area we can be sure of, Selph," he answered calmly. "If Rinoa's right, then no place in Garden can be secure, except this one. I don't see anyone placing a few hidden cameras or bugs, do you? Besides, I doubt any cameras or bugs could survive here…aha!" 

Squall was close to loosing a few specially chosen words from his tongue as he looked over Zell's shoulder and skimmed through the information that Zell was happily churning out. _Damn. Damn. Damn. Whoever They were, They had more than breached Balamb. Esthar, Galbadia, even the newly-rebuilt Trabia, which could have been completely built from Their funds…And as for governments and companies! How had Seifer managed to get hold of these? All on one diskette? It was probably a drop in the ocean, but the information was certainly damning. If only they could get hold of the real mastermind…Squall's eyes narrowed as he glanced at Seifer, who was silently battling away. The young Commander's jaw hardened slightly when he noticed that Seifer Almasy, his age-old rival, was battling next to Rinoa, in a situation __very close to double teaming. __How—_

"That." Xu's clear voice interrupted as she landed up beside Squall and Zell with a quick flip. "Fisherman's Wharf. Quistis must have gone there. But if she left at ten, and she called me at eleven, she must have been doing something else during that time…" She peered at the laptop. "That's the file Quistis cracked, right? One hour—she'd have enough time to go through Balamb…hmm, those passwords are _extremely interesting…"_

"You bet," Zell answered. "Seifer Almasy and Squall Leonhart backwards. Quisty _would be the only one who could crack that file; she's the only one of us who would even __think of using that combination," he added absently as he let his fingers and nimble mind work on another file—number five._

Xu's voice was crisp. "She was always talking about Squall Leonhart and Seifer Almasy. Garden's best, she said, and one day they would bring pride to Garden and to themselves. She was very proud of both of them, and proud that she had two such outstanding students in her class although she said she could never figure them out completely.  She used to get bothered because she had to try reading their minds for what she called a pre-emptive strike, before either of them came up with anything."

Squall remembered. Quistis had the uncanny ability to pick words right out of his mouth…so she did the same with Seifer as well? He glanced in the direction of the blond gunblade-wielding young man. How did Quistis manage to read _his mind?_

Xu continued speaking, her voice and face thoughtful. "A lot of us didn't understand what she saw in those two. Take Squall Leonhart—true, he never gave any trouble and he was almost the perfect student, but you could never get through to him. Too silent, the instructors always said. And Quistis answered back: he's too busy thinking to answer. Many of us feared that Leonhart would be a true mercenary, because he was so cold. Emotionless. Like a machine. A killing machine. Quistis, now, was different. She was certain that he wasn't the killing machine some instructors said he would be." Xu seemed to have forgotten where she was. "She said he would be one of the greatest Garden would ever produced. I don't think she knew what she was really saying at that time, at least not in the clairvoyant sense."

Xu's eyes had a faraway expression. "Almasy, now, was another matter. _He drove everyone up the wall, and quite a few instructors quit because they couldn't handle him. For him, many of us feared the opposite. We were afraid he would be a true mercenary, because he had cruelty in him, cruelty and arrogance. Quistis was waiting forever for Almasy to become SeeD. One thing was, she was always correct when it came to judging her students' abilities—right on the dot. Almasy was the first time she made an error. Quistis never agreed with anyone else's assessment of him. She said—he was still searching for something, although she could never tell us what it was, and she believed, each time he failed, that he would pass the next time. Sometimes I think she just kept faith, and it didn't have anything to do with his ability. He never changed his ways, so how could she logically have any grounds to believe he would pass?"_

Irvine's voice cut easily through the sudden silence that had fallen. "Hyne alone knows. But that's Quisty for you."

Xu gave a start and she blinked. "Oh! I forgot…where I was," she mumbled lamely. "Oh…" She glanced around quickly and saw that five people had fixed their eyes on her, having listened to her intently for the past ten minutes or so. She went scarlet.

"And I'm in! Ha, ha! Take that, you worthless database!" 

Zell's loud voice proclaimed his triumph as he punched a fist into the air, turning the attention away from Xu.

"And—oh, Holy Hyne and Chocobos!" Zell's face turned white. "Dammit, Squall, we have a situation!"

"What?"

"Wherever Almasy got this information, it's enough to make the Organisation want him dead two hundred times over. And if Fujin and Quisty know about this, they're as good as—as good as—dead." He took a deep breath. "It isn't just money. It's blackmail they're using. And rogue ex-SeeDs. They don't want just to infiltrate the Gardens—they want to take over."

"But why?" murmured Selphie. "I know we make a lot of money, but is that it? Or are they afraid that we'll stop them?"

Seifer cut in, his voice hard and brittle. "More than that. SeeD…is a ready-made military organisation. Once you have every Garden under your control…you have the most powerful army in the world, stationed in every major country in the world, backing you up. You have effective control of the world."

They turned to look at him.

He was very pale, and sweat was pouring off his brow, his breath hitching painfully in his throat. His eyes were narrowed to almost painful-looking slits, and his whole body was as tense as if he was facing ten T-Rexaurs on an open plain without the help of GFs or Hyperion. Every one of his features stood out sharply, the lines of his face and jaw as hard-edged as granite.

Squall understood immediately. "You remember."

Green met blue-gray.

"Everything. They didn't kill me. Kadowaki is right. I tried to kill myself. It's a mind-altering drug. They tested it on me right after they caught me snooping around. It brings you to a low. Makes you feel like you're even more worthless than the scum you already know you are. It drives you to the brink, until the point where anything that's suggested to you seems the only way out." His jaw tightened even further. "I stabbed myself with Hyperion. Carefully. They wanted me to bleed to death. New way of killing. You miss all your major internal organs, and you deliver your own death blow. Suicide or murder? Nobody would know."

"Food and drink soluble?" demanded Squall, also turning pale.

"Food and drink soluble," Seifer confirmed. "It's tasteless. I thought it was water."

"How—how did you end up in the ocean?" asked Rinoa suddenly. "You were in there, and Quisty said she saw Hyperion…"

"I don't know," admitted Seifer. "I don't know anything about that. I must have passed out around that time. But we're wasting time here!" He gripped his gunblade. "Quistis—"

Squall interrupted him. "We'll have to go to the Headmaster on this."

"There isn't time!" protested Zell, Irvine, Seifer, Rinoa and Selphie, all in outraged tones.

Xu spoke up. "I'll tell the Headmaster, and to hell with him if he talks about rules. His office may not be secure anyway, so I think you guys should get a half hour headstart before I go barging in on Cid."

Squall thought for a moment—all of one second. He nodded. "But there's not enough of us as it is. Xu, tell Nida to meet us at the Ragnarok and keep quiet about it. Seifer, contact Raijin. Is there anyone else we might trust?"

Zell flushed. "My…friend…she works at the library here…"

"What's her name?" asked Squall. "How do we know we can trust her?"

"We can," insisted Zell. "Her name is kind of hard to pronounce, like yours, Xu. It's Antsy, or something like that." He grew redder. "I can never get it right. I just call her An."

"An-xin," corrected Xu, looking half-amused and half-insulted.  

"Right," agreed Zell, brightening. "An-xin." He pronounced it 'unseen'.

Xu grimaced comically. "I think you should just get back to calling her An. Your accent is atrocious." She looked at Squall. "Well, where will you be going?"

Squall looked at Seifer.

"Fisherman's Horizon," said Seifer in answer to the look. "It's where their headquarters are."

They trailed out, and Rinoa glanced at Squall, wondering if she should leave first, or wait for him, but then she saw that he and Seifer were having a conversation in their usual style, i.e. looking at each other with narrowed eyes and grim expressions. Wisely, she followed the others and left the two young men alone.

"She was right about you." A pause. "And wrong about me."

"If she was right about me, how wrong could she be about you?"

A silence.

"That was the longest sentence I've ever heard from you, Leonhart."

"I'm usually too busy thinking to answer."

A raised eyebrow. "So she was right?"

"Is she ever wrong?"

The blond, green-eyed man gave the other a startled glance, and then threw his head back and laughed. Beside him, the man with the long points of brown hair falling into his eyes smiled very slightly, his mouth curving slowly, as if the muscles used were atrophied from long lack of employment.


	21. Behind The Mask

© 2002 Copyright by Gold

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII belongs to Squaresoft.

Sorry. Stupid school. Too much homework. Happy reading, everyone. *stalks off to do more homework*

*runs back* I forgot! Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I forgot I'd broken the 200 barrier. . I am so blur at times. 

In Who's Name?

Part 21: Behind The Mask

She was curled in a foetal position, arms held protectively over her face, as if hiding from the light of day. Her eyes were tightly shut behind those arms, and her teeth bit down on her lower lip, almost until it bled, but not quite. Despite everything, control was still hers. It was manifest in the taut way she held herself, and the way that her arms were poised. She was protecting herself, but it was not a cowering gesture. She would fight if need be. But in her mind, in her mind…she fought the worst battle she had ever had to fight.

_At six, she was a small child desperately trying to help, and failing._

_At ten, she was an older child, but still a child, shy and quiet, and timid as a mouse in a huge school with students all years older than she was. Terrified of everything, yet determined to survive…_

_At fifteen, she was a shy, lonely girl, with no friends—they were all either too old for her, too interested in her looks, or disinterested in the young teenager. She liked to read, her thirst for knowledge driving her onwards, and the library was her home, away from the rest of the world. They were the companions who were her equal, who could fight with her on the level she craved most to find a jousting partner—her mind… _

_At seventeen, she was an instructor, brilliant and beautiful…and somehow, tired. _

_I…I feel so lonely sometimes…and I'm not so very old, am I? I wish I had a friend of my heart.  Xu…is too different. Sometimes she doesn't understand, and she has a different life. I've tried so hard. I know Squall and I could have been friends…and maybe more. I don't want him to be a mercenary like the others say he will. He's not cold. He isn't. I know it… I always know things. I'm his instructor, and I'm his age. If I don't get close to him, he may go down that way. I know he's not that type of person. He's not cold, not really. I mustn't let him be. _

_So why can't I? Why? Talk to a wall?...Talk—to a wall! Squall…after everything I've done, after everything I've tried to do, this…is hell. Do I ask for so much, that you can't even give it to me? You don't care at all.  Nothing. I can see it in your eyes, in your face…in your heart. Your gunblade means more to you than I do. I give everything I can to my classes, defend my students, guard them, and I end up empty-handed. Not even an acknowledgement. I don't ask for thanks. But you look right through me, Squall…why?...Of them all, you and Seifer…and I thought you'd be easier to approach…it seems I was wrong…it seems I'm always wrong, even about Seifer… _

_…not an instructor…not an instructor…Headmaster…I live for my students, do you know that?...Do you know how it is to drain yourself every day, and to experience near collapse at the end of every week, a wreck inside, because you gave too much of yourself?...I don't want my students to wander through SeeD instruction courses blindly, as I did…I took five years to reach SeeD…I don't want them to be blind like I was…nobody helped me, until Xu came along…I've given it all, and now you tell me this…what will I do now? What can I do?...What will other people think of me?..._

_… I'm always too late. Oh—if only I had come sooner! Why couldn't I catch up with him? I'm his instructor, damn it all! I hope she doesn't kill him, dear Hyne, please don't let that happen…he looked so strange when she took him in. Why did he go willingly? What did she do to him?  Will she hold him hostage? Will she torture him? This is all my fault! I can't do anything right. It's all wrong…the world is crazy, and I can't do anything…Seifer…if you die, if she does anything to you, it's my fault…I couldn't get to you in time to help you…I swear I'll make her pay, and I'll bring the whole Garden—every Garden if I have to!...  _

_  …Seifer…I don't want to hurt you. But if I have to, I have to. Seifer…this is not you. My boy...What are you doing here, Knight to the Sorceress?  I taught you…have you already forgotten what I taught? Or is it because I was such a bad instructor? Am I so bad an instructor? You always hated me…you were only jealous of Squall…isn't that why you deliberately made things difficult for me? I was so stupid…I never guessed…the other instructors never had so much trouble with you. To them, you were a bad egg, with an attitude. But you tried to give me more trouble, didn't you? You hated my classes…and yet I spent so much time and trouble, and I didn't want to give you up…I'm always wrong... I can't do things right…I should have transferred you to another class…you might have made it there… _

_…You told me that once…you said I wouldn't make it. You said I couldn't make it…You were right. Headmaster took away my licence, my students don't care if I'm dead or alive, Squall looks at me like I'm his pencil case, but looks at Rinoa like she's the most amazing thing in the world, the only being in the world worth noticing…how does Rinoa do it? She didn't even know him. And now it seems she knows you too…better than any of us…She's one of those lucky people with life's magic touches in her…everything she handles turns to gold…while I'm dross…I don't mean anything to anyone in  this world…_

_…do you know when I knew I couldn't mean anything to anyone? When I became Chase Peter, the "lawyer", because Matron begged me to help you…and you did something I will never forget…Seifer, I, Quistis Trepe, would have helped you if you had asked. But you asked Chase Peter to beg Rinoa Heartlilly instead…and I did…for all the times I stood by you when you were in Garden, you never noticed…like Squall. You and Squall are so alike, you know that?...and still I saved you that night from the ocean, because I couldn't help it…_

_…What use am I? I can't do things right. Nothing turns out the way it's supposed to, not even the simplest things. Whatever comes after doesn't erase what's gone before. I'm no longer a child. All my life, I've given what I could, but I've never had anything to call my own. All my life, I've only known what it is to be SeeD. I don't know anything else. When that's gone, there'll be nothing left for me, there'll be nothing left **of me…**_

Slow tears trickled down her cheeks, very slowly, controlled, as she held herself tightly, and wept softly, heartbrokenly.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

They watched through the glass.

"She's tough, very tough," commented a man. "Tougher than the others."

"Seifer Almasy was also tough," another man reminded him. "They're both trained by SeeD, so it shouldn't come as a surprise."

The crisp voice of a woman interrupted. "This SeeD is still the toughest. Almasy, when we brought him in, was cracking. The Sorceresses or whoever they were nearly broke him. Even that lawyer woman who saved him—Chase somebody—couldn't repair him completely. He broke very fast."

"Faster than this one, but still, he took a lot of time. The other SeeDs we've tried it out on succumbed faster," remarked the first man. "A pity she has to die. She's brave, very brave, and her mental strength is the best I've ever seen."

"Well, whether it succeeds or fails, we still have to kill her," pointed out the woman. "If it succeeds, she kills herself. If it fails—and it had better not—she'll go stark raving mad and we don't want SeeD finding her and smelling a rat. By the way, we still need Almasy dead. How could we not have succeeded in killing him? How difficult can it be? We can't wait until he remembers everything. And that diskette?"

"Don't get your panties in a tangle, Derrha. I've already notified some of our people inside Balamb Garden itself," the second man said smoothly. "I understand they have a few arrangements of their own to make…and if they don't succeed at first try, Balamb goes down." 


	22. In Who's Name?

© 2002 Copyright by Gold

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VIII belongs to Squaresoft.

I had to write this. It's taken me a little while to find the right words and it's smack in the middle of my exams too. I'd like to say thank you to everyone for their reviews. I hope, if anyone has a critique to make, to address it to me at goldenstarlight@hotmail.com. Or if it's short enough, to review it at ff.net. I'd be very glad to hear your views. 

And, since I'm an anime fan, I'd sincerely like to recommend CLAMP's works, particularly Cardcaptor Sakura, Tokyo Babylon and X/1999. The last is pretty bloody—decapitations and what have you . —but the storyline is good. Not at all straightforward, and has plenty of room for speculation.  Tokyo Babylon must be read before X, by the way.

One last thing—someone here plagiarised a Cardcaptor Sakura fanfic. If you discover any plagiarism, go straight to the Plagiarism Police Patrol. I forget their website address, but they're here on the web. One division deals with anime fics, and the other with non-anime fics. I understand they deal with all sorts of fic. 

Okay—enjoy!

Title: In Who's Name?

Part 22: In Who's Name?

If his mood was worse than black, they never saw it.

If his eyes were a green close to black, they never felt it.

If his heart was lost somewhere, they never knew it.

If he was torn a thousand ways, caught up in a Time Compression created by his own mind—they could never realise it.

One day, you're ambling along, not remembering many things, and wondering who you are, and why your name is Seifer Almasy; the next, you suddenly fall back, teetering as your memory hits you with all the gentle consideration of a dozen tsunamis, assaulting you on all sides.

You remember.

Your name is Seifer Almasy.

Born twenty-one years ago come this winter.

An orphan, with a childhood by the sea.

 Your home used to be a place you were comforted by, where you had a mother you shared with other children—children you called your playmates, friends, siblings, whatever. You fought with them on the golden sands of your home, ate with them at the same table, slept with them in the same room, competed with them to see who could run faster, jump higher, swim farthest, or catch the wind and ride on its heels…

But you had to grow up. Too fast—too fast the sands of time run for the Fated Children, and you and the others heard the call... 

Your best friend, someone you could call brother deep, deep inside you, in a place you kept secret, turned his face from you and walked away. That was the beginning. You were only a child; he was only a child; how could either of you know what it would mean?

You went to a huge new school. An academy, they called it. The best in the world. How did you get in? You heard about it. You went there to learn about the world—and search for the fulfilment of a dream. But in the summer before you entered the Garden, you were elsewhere. Travelling the world. You ran away from the orphanage, remember? You wanted to see the world. You wanted to race all over the world, through forests green, and wide, open seas, under skies as blue as the cornflowers of your childhood…Did you feel that your time was coming? That there was a chance that you might never run again, under those skies, through those trees, or feel the waves at your feet? Perhaps you did. Perhaps you tried to run from the call.

You were always a romantic. In you, fire edged its lines in your nature, in your body, and in your mind. With every movement and thought, you _were fire. It threatened to burst its borders, and it made you restless and defiant. It burned you and every day, you fought it. Others in your place would sink into the mire of depression, lose control of themselves; not you. You fought it, every day, battling the fire, striving to be its equal if not its master, before it could consume you utterly._

Then one day, you met for the first time, a beautiful girl who was different. Light. In her, you saw laughter, and joy, and the promise of happiness, because she radiated it. Such a lovely, joyous person. And like you, she was a romantic. Both of you had dreams. She understood what it meant to chase a dream. She was chasing hers, after all, against the wishes of her only family.

But then the summer was over, and you had to go after your dream. You had a vision. You would be—the best. A strong, brave leader, renowned for your courage and intelligence, and your chivalry, and you would save people all over the world. Where there was suffering, you would raise your hand and rid the people of their pains. And the world would grow to love the name of Seifer Almasy. You would be a knight in a time when knights were no longer there to help the world. You would lead a new order…a new order of knights. 

You would save the world. _This was the dream, the highest pinnacle, and the fire was satisfied. And then you understood the fire—it was yours. Its name? Ambition._

You thought the Garden would be a different place. You went in and what you saw there should have told you to be careful, right from the start. The first person you saw…was a memory from your childhood, now grown up. She was tall and beautiful, her golden hair neatly tied up, dressed in a grand military uniform, smart boots clicking sharply against the floor as she walked, head held high and poise undisturbed. She carried a sheaf of papers, held against her chest. In her face you traced the memory of a childhood friend, a girl you had grown up with. The features were the same, and blue eyes behind the glasses were clear and watchful, and courageous. Once, they had been clear and unafraid. They had changed with the years. 

You stared at her, unable to say anything and wondering if she remembered you. And she looked back at you, eyes surprised but viewing you as one might view a stranger, and then she shifted her gaze away. You opened your mouth to call her name, but another beat you to it.

"Instructor Trepe!"

She turned calmly to address the person who had called her name.

You froze.

_Instructor Trepe?    _

Instructor? She couldn't be older than you—she wasn't!

You should have known. But all you remembered as you stood there was that she had forgotten.

So did you.

Like her, you forgot. You fought with them, yes, and ate with them, and slept under the same roof with them, and competed with them. _But like them, you forgot. You even forgot your dream and saw it as illusion, stripping it of its beauty and seeing only the power and glory that came with it. A dream is made not of its power and glory, but of its heart. The day your dream lost its heart, you lost it too. _

And then someone gave your dream greater power and glory. Edea, Sorceress Possessed. So she tapped into your mind, and found your memories, and shaped them to her will, and made you her vassal and vessel. In shaping them, she had to wake the heart in you—but it was too late by then, because you were already trapped and alone, and too weak to fight on your own.

She left you with scars too many and too deep to speak of—your scars, and the scars of the friends you hurt. So you fled, or tried to, and the world found you anyway, and howled for revenge. But they freed you instead, although you would rather have been punished—and they said your former instructor found the woman who saved you from death, and who laid you bare for the whole world to see. 

But you knew they wouldn't want to see you anymore—and you didn't want to see them either, because now that the scars were open again, they hurt again, and the woman who opened them to save a life you would gladly give up, told you to go, go and close them and heal them, because only you can heal them now. Too raw, she had said to you sadly. Your scars were too raw.

So you went far, far away, to live at Fisherman's Horizon, where the people were silent and taciturn, and kept their noses in their own business. You stayed with the Master Fisherman, who had returned to Fisherman's Horizon for a little while—the very day you arrived there, actually. So you didn't end up living at Fisherman's Horizon, but on a quiet little island not far off, where you did a lot of fishing. The Master Fisherman came and went as he liked, and neither of you disturbed the other. 

But you couldn't shake off all of your old life, because there were two people who still cared, two friends who had been at Garden with you and whom you'd dragged into the mire of the Sorceress' Knight. But they still cared. That was the important thing. So they came to live with you, having scoured the world over to find you, and they found work not far off—at Fisherman's Horizon. And though your life wasn't going anywhere, it didn't seem to matter so much anymore. Being a fisherman was quite a safe job. All you had to do was to catch fish and sell it, to the nearby Fisherman's Wharf. You had friends who cared, and a roof over your head, in a quiet place where you could be at peace and even forget, if only for a little while, how much those scars hurt.

Until one day, when the old fire rose in you, and the battle sense you thought you had honed into spotting fish and squalls reared its head and smelt something rotten in the state of FH. So you followed your battle scent of old on instinct, and put your nose into a hornet's nest.

The hornets caught you…

…you don't want to remember what they did to you—but you have to. They opened your scars again, and made fresh scars. Again and again, they made you remember what green glades, cool breezes and deep blue ocean waves helped you ease into the past. They made you remember, and left you to die. They had as little mercy as you had once.

And they're going to do what they did to you again—only they're going to do it to someone you care for. It doesn't matter how you care for her, or whether you care more for this woman in your life, or for the girl who first shared your dreams. What matters is to make sure that she lives, whole and unbroken, unlike you. And to do whatever it takes to snatch her away before she ends up in the ocean, the way you did. 

Once someone used you to destroy everything you held dear, even if you didn't know it was happening. You won't let it happen again—not to her, not to anyone, not to Garden.

You are Seifer Almasy, who once hunted crabs as a little boy, with your playmates, along the golden sands. Today, you go a-hunting again, with those same playmates. Out of the ocean and into the light—may you find the crabs you hunt now.


	23. Into The Ocean

© 2003 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold (E-mail: goldenstarlight@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Characters and universe borrowed from Final Fantasy VIII. 

I wish to apologise for taking so long to update, but I was sidetracked by schoolwork, as well as the fact that I ventured into yet another fandom, X/1999.  Yes, things are wrapping up nicely, but there may be a sequel to this.  I'm planning it right now…

This part is dedicated to SitaSilverBreeze and to Rose, for their reviews, which kept reminding me that I have a duty to complete this story! ^_^ 

SeeDs need to have brains as well as acting skills. 

Title: In Who's Name?

Part 23: Into The Ocean

**18:  00: 03****, ****Balamb****Garden****, Commander's Office**

A tall young man with a large cowboy hat perched low over his forehead burst into the Commander's Office, the door flying open and banging loudly as he practically hurtled into the room and crashed accidentally into a nearby stack of books and files. Almost immediately, he clapped one hand to his eye.

"Oh, ^%$#, my contact lens!" he growled.  He immediately bent down and tried to look for it.

Zell Dincht, who had been hanging all over Squall Leonhart's shoulder as the latter typed away at his computer, promptly straightened. "Yo, I'll help you look for it!"

"You'll only crush it…" muttered Irvine Kinneas, still hunting and ignoring the stack of books that lay around him. "Ugh, crap, I can't see a damn thing." He gave a defeated sigh and rose to his feet, carefully stumbling away to a position beside the door, where he remained.

At the computer, Squall Leonhart frowned. Nida, who was now hanging all over Squall's shoulder and practically blocking the entire screen from view, shifted a little, but kept his position as Squall cleared his throat.

"An-xin… it's jammed."

Thiyo An-xin, better known as An, got up from her seated position on the floor, where she had been busy braiding Rinoa's hair. "_Hung," she corrected._

Squall shrugged and rose from his chair carefully. He waited until An had seated herself and Nida was in position, before he walked up to Rinoa. She was already standing, apparently playing with the braid An had managed to create.  

Squall glanced around. Zell was making slow, steady tracks around the office with narrowed eyes, purportedly looking for Irvine's lost contact lens. Irvine himself was leaning carelessly against the door, hat pulled over his face, and to all appearances taking a nap standing up. An-xin, Zell's girlfriend, was busy at the computer, supposedly restoring it, but making little clicks of annoyance every now and then, as if it was giving her more trouble than she had expected from a tiny little restart problem. Half an hour's grace, Xu had said. Half an hour…they were breaking the rules that required them to inform Headmaster Cid Kramer of any military action taken. 

"Rules are made to be broken, Leonhart." Seifer Almasy glanced coolly at the Commander, arrogant green eyes flickering with impatience. 

Squall stiffened slightly and unconsciously tensed, bracing himself for the inevitability—a final, acerbic comment from Seifer's lashing tongue. Didn't the fool know he had to be quiet? If Seifer gave it all away—! But the other youth remained curiously silent, although he did not take his challenging gaze from Squall's face.   

Rinoa twirled around, her eyes on Squall. Smiling, she took his hand, as if being playful. But her voice sounded quietly in Squall's head. _Squall? __You can start giving orders now. Try touching the person you're talking to and concentrate really hard on him or her. It will be easier for me that way…_

Squall nodded. He glanced briefly at Selphie, who promptly bounced forward, eyes bright and her tiny chin lifted up proudly. She snapped a cheeky salute at the startled Squall, then leaned forward slightly to touch him on the shoulder. One bright eye winked.

_Ready for battle, Commander!_

Aloud, she squealed, "Ooh, you two look so cute together! Here, you need to salute like me, and you'll look even cuter—I guarantee!"

Rinoa giggled and even Seifer smirked a little.

Squall blinked once, then recovered. He stared hard at Selphie, scowling slightly as if he couldn't believe his ears... a typical Squall response. But he was speaking to her, his voice in her head.

_Selphie__, you've worked most often with most of the SeeDs…and you can read people very well. Get twelve of our best SeeDs. Use some kind of excuse—Garden Festival or something. I don't want anyone to know what we're doing. I want all the SeeDs to be people who graduated from our batch—they fought Ultimecia and I think they're the ones we can trust most in this situation. I don't want anyone who's been with us for less than two years. Use your judgment._

Selphie winked again, stepping back. Then she saluted smartly again and took off, calling back cheekily.

"I'll go get the camera! And don't forget what I said—salute and you'll be cuter!" _     _

At that moment, Zell, who had more or less made a nearly complete round of the room, happened to look up. 

Across the room, Irvine tipped his hat even lower.

The lights in the office went out, leaving it in complete darkness. At the same time, there were the sounds of metal and glass smashing.

**18:  11: 03****, ****Balamb****Garden**** cafeteria **

"Did you hear?"

"No, what?"

"Selphie Tilmitt just hauled up some of the really senior SeeDs to help her on the Committee. I saw them run by just now!" 

"Really? But she didn't ask me…and _I'm_ on the Garden Committee!"

"Well, _you're not a senior SeeD. Those she called included two of our instructors. I think she must want them to do a special item for the Garden Festival!"_

"Oh, yeah, I heard her mentioning it at one of the meetings. She said she would even try to get the Commander in and you know, he's always difficult about things like that!"

"I hate to interrupt you people, but could someone lend me a mobile phone? Mine isn't working. It was fine just this morning too! And I just took it for servicing last month! I'm going to buy a new one as soon as I ever can…"

"Sorry, mine hasn't been working for the past ten minutes…"

"Yeah, me too…"

"And mine…"

"I have a feeling there's a really weird breakdown going on somewhere."

"_And the Garden server's crashed…or else there's something wrong with my laptop, you know…can't log in, can't get any access, huh…"_

"Yeah, me too!"

"Me three!"

"This is really weird…"

"You think something's wrong?"

"Maybe—"

"_Attention, Garden. I repeat, attention! This is Instructor Xu speaking on behalf of the Commander's office. I have three important announcements to make. As of now, Garden is under quarantine, effective immediately. No one is allowed to leave the grounds. We have several suspected cases in the infirmary down with the Esthar flu. I repeat, Garden is under quarantine, effective immediately. Second, we are experiencing a satellites and overall communications breakdown. The excessive downloading and uploading of material through our Garden server has resulted in a small problem, which the Headmaster's Office is attempting to correct. We will also be giving the system a full overhaul so that future excessive downloading of entertainment material will not result in such a drastic collapse in future. In addition, we will be experimenting with a frequency alteration which is expected to interfere with the satellite transmissions to our Garden. Hence equipment such as mobile phones will be unable to receive signals. These changes will take place over the next two days. We expect operations to resume on the third day. Finally, there will be a Garden Committee Meeting three days from now. Instructor Tilmitt will chair this meeting and it will be held at 1900 hours in the Blue Conference Room on level 2."     _

The chatter in the cafeteria began almost before the announcements were through.

"Oh, that would explain the mobile phones and my laptop!"

"Yeah! I hate the quarantine part most. I haven't been out on the town for weeks."

"Me too. Man, I hope those Esthar flu people get better soon."   

**18:  27: 21****, undisclosed location**

She lay on her stomach, half on the bed, half off it, one hand trailing on the floor, long, bedraggled hair that was once golden, now slightly matted and stuck together in clumps. The room she was in was bare and simple—the walls were painted white, the only window was a small one with bars, high up; aside from the single metal bed with its thin, white-coloured sheets, there was a single chest of drawers in the corner, fortunately a pale brown colour, the only respite from the whiteness of the room unless you counted the floor, which was plain grey cement._ There was also a plain footstool, by the side of the bed. _

She was alone. In a cell even her dulled brain could identify at first glance as a room in which they kept those who were considered to be mentally ill. So she was mentally ill. Somehow her mind registered that idea with no surprise and with an increasing sense of futility.

She was losing her mind.

Perhaps Garden had put her here. She could not quite remember what had happened before she came to and found herself in this small white room. Everything was a hazy memory of quiet figures talking in low voices, as if not to disturb her, and of white lights and chemical smells, and being wheeled to and fro, sometimes carried on stretchers, sometimes carried to and fro by people in uniforms of some sort. They had probably dosed her with drugs. Drugs, and too much time alone, in empty rooms devoid of anything except too-strong lights and white, white walls, and she was always tired, so tired…She wanted to sleep but she couldn't. She couldn't drift off into oblivion. Half-awake, half-asleep, never fully conscious…perhaps she _had slept and she hadn't known that she had._

She didn't know anymore. 

She didn't care.

Simpler for her if she could just die.

But she had already tried to kill herself, and she was too weak. Somehow she had been unable to focus properly on the thin bedsheets, let alone tear them into strips or fashion them into any sort of rope. 

Why couldn't they let her die? If nobody cared enough to come for her, why? 

Why…

…didn't…

…they…

…just…

…let…

…her…

…_die… _

And then, through the haze of her mind, strangest of all, she thought she felt someone lift her up.

"Miss Trepe?"

The voice was a bare whisper, soft and girlish, and she knew that she had never heard that voice before. But she did not turn. She was too tired. Too lost perhaps.

"Miss Trepe, please…"

Gentle hands carefully turned her over. 

She was looking into the face of a stranger, a stocky teenage girl of about fifteen or so, with a dusting of freckles on both brown cheeks, and wild blond hair that fell into frantic dark eyes. But all she saw were the enormous, frantic dark eyes. They seemed to be telling her something…but what? She was too tired to think it over…

"Miss Trepe, please hurry. You must get up and go. They'll be here soon."

She was almost literally hoisted to her feet, and she found herself stumbling as she tried to connect her feet to the floor. It felt all wrong. She had not walked for what seemed like forever and it was killing her. More likely, she was killing the girl whom she was more or less draped all over.

"Leave me…"

Her own voice, hoarse and cracked with disuse, had finally spoken of its own accord. _Leave_ _me, she meant; __don't _take_ __me _with_ _you_, __I'm probably too heavy. You'll hurt yourself. Except that she hadn't that much voice or strength to say that._

The girl didn't seem to have heard her, so Quistis tried to pull back a little, but she couldn't. The other girl was too strong for her. 

And then the girl was dragging her, and she was tired, so tired… 

**18:  32: 10****, somewhere near Fisherman's Horizon**

The unmarked craft drifted silently, lazily, almost nonchalantly towards a general direction.

"Make for that strip," ordered the blond young man grimly. "That's the place."

The young man in the ten-gallon white hat standing behind him nodded thoughtfully. "A great place for hiding—they must have good military strategists there." He pushed back his hat. "I hope Vilar and his team get to Esthar in time," he added soberly. "They're our only hope there." He drew a deep breath. "I thought we could build a new world free of this corruption—" here he glanced at his compatriot, the blond man—"especially after the result of your trial. It was…unexpected."

"I had the best lawyer," responded the blond young man shortly. "Who came out of nowhere."

"Quisty found her," the other young man reminded him. "Funny thing, though, that lawyer disappeared right after your trial. I heard she sold publishing and film-making rights to her records of the story for a cool five million gil and then retired to one of the islands nearby. Did she give you any of that money?"

"Half of it."

The young man in the cowboy hat whistled. "Almasy, you must be rolling. You ought to be one of the richest kids around now."   

Seifer Almasy shrugged. "I didn't take it. I—" He broke off, leaning forward as his breath caught in his throat.

Puzzled, Irvine Kinneas peered over his shoulder. His eyes widened.

Not far off, near the strip that they were heading for, were the only cliffs on the large island.  There was someone walking at the edge of those cliffs, which fell in a sheer drop, all the way to the ocean, which churned below, crashing waves fiercely against the rocks.

"That's not…" Irvine's voice trailed off.

The figure was more clearly seen now, as their transport craft drew closer. It was the figure of a girl, or more accurately, a young woman, and her long blond hair spilled around her, buffeted by the winds. She was clad in what looked like a muddy brown ensemble that bared her arms from the shoulders down, and her legs. She seemed to be moving somewhat haphazardly, sometimes wandering close to the edge of the cliff, at other times drifting further away.

_Quisty, don't…_Seifer's grip on Hyperion tightened.  

The girl did not seem to have noticed the appearance of a craft in the sky. Instead, she moved nearer and nearer to the edge of the cliffs. Then she stood there for an agonising moment.

He couldn't hold out any longer. "We've _got_ to get down there!" shouted Seifer, lurching to his feet and knocking against Irvine. "Kishi, take this thing down there!"

The SeeD at the controls shook her head. "No, we can't. We'd alert the whole operation immediately. There has to be some other way—"

One of the other SeeDs in the craft gave a horrified shout. "She's fallen in!"

Seifer whirled, blanching. "_QUISTIS!" _

For a moment, the six SeeDs in the craft stared out through the panelled glass of the ship, down to the rushing waters beneath. Then Irvine turned to Seifer.

"There's still a chance," he said grimly. "Kishi, take us back to the sand flats—the flatter part, you know the place?"

"Yeah."

Seifer licked his lips. "Was that where…?"

Irvine shook his head. "No, but that's the closest."

Seifer stared at the cowboy-hatted young man. "She found me in the ocean…"  A sudden light gleamed in his eyes. "The current."

Irvine nodded. "Exactly."

**18:  46: 32****, somewhere near Fisherman's Horizon**

The waters were a deep, dark blue, with a tint of green in them, white caps foaming at the edges. He shaded his eyes and waited, cold dread coiling deep within him. _Hyne, please, don't let me be too late…_

Then he saw it. A faint flash of white, like an arm…or a body turned over by the waves. 

He took a deep breath, and plunged into the ocean.


End file.
